Angels VS Demons
by mssunnymuffins
Summary: Ludwig is an Angel of Strength, Feliciano is an Angel of Joy, and Kiku Honda's emblem, the symbol binding him to his role as an angel, has disappeared. He is sent to Arthur Kirkland, an Angel of Magic, to fix the problem. What will he and his friends do when a worse one arises? Angel AU, 2P Nations
1. Chapter 1

**Okay so this is kind of a re-write.** I know what you're thinking, this is chapter 1, but it's not. **This is actually a re-working of a story I have up called Angels for Recall.** If you're coming from angels, while this chapter has an added section, you don't need to read it because it was summarized in angels. **Feel free to jump to Chapter 4** (when I write it...) **to just pick up where you left off.** Basically, what I'm doing here is that I feel this story started off poorly. It was off topic and, while I thought it was a good idea at the time, I kind of started to regret the way I chose to write it. So, now, I've made some adjustments and am now re-doing the start of the story. So, here is Angels for Recall take two, now called Angels VS Demons.

Some notes, this story is not religious, but it is. You don't have to me religious to read it, but the characters kind of are. I mean, they're angels...working for God...they're bound to know their leaders' words. It's based off of Christian faith, but really that stuff does not come up too often so any atheist/Muslim/nudist/etc. readers should be fine.

 **HUMAN NAMES KEY**  
 _Country - Human Name_  
Japan - Kiku Honda  
America - Alfred F. Jones (F for freedom! Faith here because he's an angel and that's cute.)  
Hong Kong - Li Xiao / Leon  
Russia - Ivan Braginski  
England - Arthur Kirkland  
Taiwan - Mei (Xiao? Wang? Something Else?)

* * *

Kiku was a bit amazed at his ability to fool people. Angels flew on past him without a word as he sat, very, very nervously, outside the Hall of Angels. His staid expression and polite motionlessness seemed to deter anyone from thinking anything of him. Anyone except someone who'd known him nearly his whole life.

"What's up?"

It was his brother who finally spoke to him, the youngest of the family, Li Xiao. He'd grown to just prefer Li, or Leon by his white friends who otherwise botched the pronunciation, and stood now outside the hall, shifting through letters in his satchel. His side job as an angelic messenger gave him a little extra money, and something to talk about when his favorite sister, Mei, asked for an update on town gossip. Perhaps tonight, Kiku would be the center of that gossip.

"Recall," the older of the two replied, gesturing to his shirt, where in which his usual emblem was replaced with a red, flashing "R".

"Yikes. Should you be worried?" Li was also talented in fooling people. The slight, ever so slight minutia of his raised brow showed Kiku that he truly did care, whereas every other facet of his face screamed in painful boredom.

"No," Kiku lied, "it will likely be fine." He thought back to the last time he'd been on call for a mission; it was just the day prior.

* * *

Kiku recalled being dressed in his usual, all white with dustings of gold or red, as he took a quiet walk about the streets. The tranquil man observed the buildings and people as he trotted by, accepting his slow pace to just enjoy the breeze in his hair and smell of flowers on the wind. Quiet until someone grabbed him by the back side. The man jumped, let out a yelp, and just as he spun around to see who the offender was, he realized there was none. What he'd felt was just his communicator suddenly vibrating. He pulled the device from his pocket and eyed the screen.

" _ANGEL OF PRIDE NEEDED_ " it read, " _AMHURST, SOUTH CAROLINA, USA. WOULD YOU LIKE TO CLAIM?_ " He eyed the device before nodding to himself and pressing the button indicating yes. The prompt screen faded away to a map. All other Angels of Pride, now that Kiku had claimed it, no longer had the chance to accept the mission. Too many angels in one place could get messy. He changed the path and pace of his walk, taking a quick left as he eyed the communicator. On the screen, a white dot represented him, bustling about above the clouds, and a green triangle represented his patient. In this instance, there were two green triangles, not too far from where the clouds happened to be floating. He pulled another right, his destination quickly coming into sight - drop off. A sharp end to the cluster of clouds the man and about a thousand other angels called home, leading to the atmospheric clouds of the earth. Kiku walked right off the edge and felt the wind begin to whip up his shirt and pants, sending pleasant chills through his body as his home grew quickly more and more distant. Kiku extended his wings from the holes in the back of his shirt and with two gusty flaps, he'd caught enough wind to carry himself to the green triangles. Judging by the green, grassy field, array of lawn chairs, and blowing of whistles, and language being spoken, Kiku had flown to a football, or rather, soccer game in South Carolina.

Kiku's target sat on an uncomfortable looking set of metal bleachers seeming disinterested, and didn't notice the invisible and weightless angel take a seat next to her. His other target, according to to the communicator's map, was sprinting about on the field. He slowly figured out which one she was, a little girl about eight of age with long, brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail and capped with a headband. She had on a purple jersey with the number "08" on the back and "LAURA" written across the top in bold. Laura, panting and sweaty, scooted down the field, knocking the ball back and forth between herself and another girl in purple before she kicked it, launching it past the goalie and into the net. With the final whistle blow, the purple team's members all screamed and cheered, running into a huddle of joy - all except Laura. She stayed behind on the field, eyeing the goalie.

"Hannah?" Laura asked her, "are you okay?"

"Yea," this Hannah responded, "You win some, you lose some." Tears welled in Hannah's eyes. "I'll get you back next year."

"So, we really did end your season?" Laura cooed back, sadly. Laura nodded, before dusting herself off, and sniffling.

"It's okay," she commented, before jogging off to the benches were an angry coach was yelling at her equally depressed team members. Laura eyed the ground somberly. Kiku's second target stood from the bleachers as stomped down them.

"L, come on, let's go already!" the woman remarked at presumably her daughter. This was when it clicked into place to Kiku as to why he was needed. Evidently, Laura's best friend, Hannah, played for the other team, and was crushed at having lost. Seeing her friend like this sucked Laura's victor from her and replaced it with guilt. Laura's mother, on the other hand, was generally disinterested the entire time the game was being played and failed to see what the point of sports was, therefore disabling her from comforting her child.

Kiku pulled a double-ended arrow and a wooden bow, the iconic weapon of choice for an angel, from thin air. He glanced at the dial on his bow and turned it down from nine to level three point four. Not so much energy was needed for just this tiny mission. Once that was done, the man stood tall and took aim. Upon release, the arrow-head split in two, one side going into Laura's shoulder, the other into Karmin's temple. Both girls absorbed the angelic power from Kiku's arrows of pride, and suddenly their reactions changed.

"MOM! I did it! I finally won a game!"

"Yes, that's amazing princess, I am so proud of you!" the mother cried, scoping the girl up and spinning her around. Kiku smiled feeling his job done; Laura was proud of herself, and Mom was proud of her daughter. He nearly flapped away, but paused when he heard the next line.

"You see THAT Diana?! My little girl WON! And what did yours do but warm the bench?" the mother laughed loudly in the other mother's face, and set her daughter down, who promptly ran away to help Hannah off the bleacher. Hannah stood, dusted herself off, and looked at her shoes blinking back tears.

"What Hannah? Gonna cry? It's okay, maybe next time you'll be half as good as me," the girl mocked, sniggering. Kiku then took flight and set a marker on the area, calling for an Angel of Compassion or Empathy to come and fix the situation. Surely his dosage wasn't too high. They seemed to react just as he'd wanted them to initially. The man flew faster, hoping to God someone would swoop in and save the day before Karmin or Laura said something more they'd regret.

The following morning, when Kiku woke, he put his shirt on in the mirror, and stood there waiting for it to register who he was, and display his glowing emblem of pride. The emblem was the only thing an angel had signaling to other angles who they were. They had wings, but so did mythical creatures. Some had halos, but Kiku was not yet old enough to attain his, and still had about another 300 years to wait till he entered seniority and could earn one. The emblem was a tiny symbol, programmed to show up on the breast of every clothing item the angels could wear that connected to their hearts and shined with its true intent. Kiku's heart told him from the day he was born that there was nothing wrong with being proud of yourself, and it was destined to be the thing he ended up helping humans with as an Angel of Pride. He awaited the shirt's beep, indicating a finishing in calibration. The shirt instead beeped, and flashed an 'R' - the R of recall. He knew it meant he was being summed to the Hall of Magic to get a new role as an angel. It was a somewhat common occurrence after all; angels changed personalities all the time. Just, considering the circumstances, Mr. Honda was more than a little scared the Angels of Magic would send him to Hall of Discipline where he would have to deal with the Angels of Angels for his blunder with Laura. Nothing goes unchecked when an angel does more harm than good.

* * *

"I'm not worried in the slightest," He affirmed, mostly to himself, but his brother replied.

"Well then get a move on," he said, pointing to a sign flashing green, indicating it was Kiku's turn to go in. He stood, bowed to Li, and moved for the door. It was wooden with iron details and stretched about seven feet high, so heaving a bit as he pushed it, Kiku entered a landmark for the angelic community. The Hall of Magic greeted his with by a grand room complete with books lining every inch of the five story high walls, tables slew about with bottles, jars, potions, open books, and sprawled in journals. In the doorway stood a chipper man in a white cartigain, light green shirt buttoned underneath, and matching white jeans. He smiled upon spotting his next guest.

"Kiku!" greeted an old friend.

"Good morning Arthur-san." He bowed to the man. Arthur made reference to Li, by waving at him over Kiku's shoulder and shouting a "Good day, Leon" as the door shut.

"Here for recall I see?" Arthur asked, already at his station. He worked at a wooden table piled on the left with various books pulled from the endlessly tall shelves. To his right he had a display with test tubes, bottles, spoons, and everything he'd need for any of his elixirs. He reached underneath the table and grabbed a glass bowl from a rack and began working immediately, quickly mixing potions and powders in the bowl before him as Kiku took to a seat across from Arthur's work-space. Arthur quickly formed a concoction, and walked around his table to be closer to Kiku. He dipped a hand in the potion and murmured something in a distant language, before splashing the liquid on Kiku. It dried rather quickly, and the 'R' on the Japanese man's shirt flashed away into an emblem, then another, and another. The flashing emblems continued until the spot on his chest went black. The two men stared at it in anticipation for Kiku's new role.

It remained black.

"How long is this supposed to take, Arthur-san?"

"Not this long," the Brit stated, making his way back around the table and grabbing a fresh bowl. He combined materials in it again, and again threw the mess onto his friend. The motion of the emblems and then blackness repeated itself.

"Arthur-san "

"Kiku, stand for a second," Arthur said, pulling rolling, divider walls out from the sides of the room. He shielded the other man on both sides as he stood. "May I see your wingspan?" Kiku did as he was told, forced his wings out of his back, and spread them within the confines of the two "walls". Arthur waved, and Kiku retracted his wings into his back, confused and concerned, as the Englishman made his way around the table again.

"Arthur-san what is the matter?" He ignored the questioned and shuffled through boxes and drawers under his work station. Finally, he pulled out a small pill bottle seeming to be satisfied, and ran all too close to Kiku, hiding the both of them in the dividers' privacy.

"Kiku, take one of these every four hours ON THE HOUR. It is imperative that you are not even a second late," he assertively whispered, pushing the bottle towards his friend. "Take one now." Mr. Honda took a step back, to re-affirm the small bit of personal space he liked to have, and downed one of the pills with the aid of some water. It burned his chest for a moment, but the black circle on his chest faded into the emblem of pride, which greatly pleased both parties.

"Arthur-san, why-"

"I'll come to your place and explain later," Arthur whispered, pushing the dividers away. He looked cautiously around the room and when he found none of the other angels paying him too much mind, he leaned into Kiku's ear, much to the other man's displeasure, and whispered "don't tell anyone about this. Don't let anyone see you with these. And remember, every. Four. Hours. Alright?" He pulled away and barely gave the other man time to nod before he ushered him out of the hall.

"Have a lovely day, Kiku," Arthur cried, "and maybe stay indoors," the man added a bit more quietly. He closed the hall doors, and the light on the side went then from red to green, indicating availability. A young, blonde angel stood, and urged one she had come with, an older man looking very similar to her save a ribbon in not in his hair, into the hall. Kiku looked at his chest, ran a hand over the pills contained in his pocket, and began his walk home, happy no one could see just how much more panicked and scared he was.

* * *

Arthur had said to take the medication every four hours exactly. But at what time did Kiku first take the pill was the question. It was probably around 11:30 a.m., he'd concluded, but at what minute? What second? Would taking the pill early lead to overdose? What where these pills anyways?

The man sighed and set down his spatula. The crackle of oil filled the room as he glanced up at the time, 3:02 p.m., and then back at his chest. The pride emblem was still there.

"DUUDE?! YOU HOME?!" Well, so much for solitude.

"Yes, I'm in the kitchen, Alfred-san." Kiku mentally sighed as he heard Alfred's feet thump on his floor, growing ever closer. Why did the man always feel he could just barge in anytime he wanted? At least he took his shoes off without being asked.

"Kiku! What's up man?"

"Nothing much, Alfred-san. I assume something happened with you?" He turned his attention back to the fish in his pan, and Alfred walked up to the counters nearest Kiku, leaning on them, and speaking several levels too loudly.

"I got an underling! She's an angel, maybe only like 70 years old (which would have made her appear to be about 12 or 13) who just got assigned to the same role as me; this cute little thing named Jane! Dude, like, my teaching skills were top notch, and Ivan barely got a word in."

"You're partnered with Ivan-san again?"

"YES! Can't the council see no one likes him?! Especially not me!" Kiku couldn't argue with that; Ivan was not his favorite person either. His elder brother, Yao, seemed quite fond of the man, and Kiku had is suspicions about their relationship being more than just friendship, but other than that he'd rarely met anyone who whole heartedly liked him but his sisters. Alfred tended to just be too blunt about it, provoke his common partner, and get them both into trouble by causing fights.

"He's good at what he does, and that's rude Alfred-san."

"Yea yea, okay, dad, I'll be good," Alfred teased, clapping Kiku on the back a fair bit too hard. He stumbled forward into the stove and nearly set his clothes on fire. That was another thing about Alfred, he seemed to never know his own strength. Kiku stepped back, patting the dangerously hot spot on his garments a fair bit frazzled. Alfred failed to notice.

"Yo, we should watch more Clannad!" Kiku let out another mental sigh at this notion. Alfred was horribly clingy and loud when the duo watched horror movies, often forcing Kiku to stay up all night with him out of fear, or trapping him in an unbreakable bear-hug, but the blonde was honestly worse with dramas. Clannad, as sad and unmerciful a show as it was, would no doubt leave Alfred in a pool of tears, especially considering the next episode's content. He flipped his fish off the pan, on top of a plate of rice and clicked off the stove.

"Alfred-san, I don't know if-"before he had a chance to finish, he was dragged out of the kitchen by the hand, sat on the couch, and the intro song was already playing. The Asian man settled into his couch and smiled lightly, having expected nothing less. This was Alfred after all. He glanced at a clock on the wall adjacent them, made note of the time, and made note of his emblem, still glowing. Kiku had had the drapes drawn in his living room, making it fairly dark when coupled with the lights being clicked off. The glow of the T.V. enveloped the two and Kiku waited as the episode drew on. It was mostly silent, both emerged in the tale, until the "Clannad song" started to play. It was a clear indication of the most devastating moment of the episode, and by this point, Alfred was already curled up into a ball on the couch, leaning onto Kiku, destroying a pillow, and blinking back stubborn tears.

"Dude " he murmured.

"Dude, no." It was a little louder.

"No. NO. OH MY GOD, DUDE, NO!" And thus began the hysterics. Alfred ditched the pillow he'd taken refuge on, and wrapped both arms around Kiku in a grip just short of the light of death. He sobbed openly, and screamed fragmented sentences of objection towards the screen.

"Alfred-san, if you could please sto-" Kiku began, but his breath was cut off by the tightening grip. He felt his heart begin to panic.

"Alfred-san," a significant blush took the man's cheeks and he wished he'd had a better way of showing how overwhelmed he was. He attempted to push himself out and free, but Alfred only pulled on tighter when the character on the screen started crying too. "Alfred-san, please don't hold onto me like this, I can't breathe." It came out very strained with what little air Kiku could manage, but Alfred seemed yet again not to notice. Kiku, now feeling as if screaming, but actually only speaking a little loudly, was clawing at or rather gently slapping Alfred in his attempt to escape. He wanted to laugh, or do the Kiku equivalent of a laugh, at how ridiculous Alfred looked. He wanted to sneakily rub it in his friend's face that he was overreacting, just as Kiku had hypothesized he would. It's just, these things were hard to do when you were in the middle of being strangled. His chest began to burn as he half laughed, half choked. "Alfre-"

This man has absolutely no grasp of human decency. Around his family, Kiku's radius of personal space fell ever smaller, to the point of allowing Yao and Mei to touch him as they pleased with little to no objection. When with friends, each person had their specific bubble, and Alfred always seemed to attack his delicate boundaries of comfort and social acceptability with a chainsaw. Kiku had given him plenty of leeway because of his nature; allowing high fives, pats on the back, the occasional hug, even a bit of clinginess when Alfred was caught in his emotions, but that was a BIT of clinginess. This was ludicrous. He had no respect, no consideration, no understanding of personal space, and fell deaf every time Kiku tried to politely tell him to stop. It was so very irritating! The man knew he deserved to be respected, and obeyed, be it about matters of his own body or anything else; he was a Honda, elder considered and highly ranked angel - no one was going to suggest otherwise.

"Alfred-san," he snapped, "Don't. Touch. Me." Venom dripped from his voice as he spoke, and his tone certainly caught Alfred's attention that time. He pulled away, raising his hands in a sign of surrender. Kiku pulled away himself, wide eyed, or as wide-eyed as his emotionlessness would allow, stunned by his own outburst. Surely he had more self-restraint than that. It wasn't such a big deal Alfred was all over me. Life threatening, disobedient, and annoying ,yes, absolutely Kiku shook his head lightly but not that big a deal. Kiku could hardly see Alfred in the dim room, but he could make out the other man, no, his friend's, hurt and shocked expression.

"I," Kiku stood, turned towards Alfred and bowed near 90 degrees, "I apologize Alfred-san, I don't know what came over me." Flustered, he made his way out of the living room and into the hall and sped-walked to his restroom.

* * *

It's a pretty quick start to the story but considering my restart, I wanted to give y'all a lot to work with. **THIS STORY WILL BE UPDATED TOMORROW SO PLEASE REVIEW!** Let me know if the angelic world is confusing, because in my original start, I spent about two chapters explaining it. If this isn't confusing, then I'll keep it up.

Now, I don't want to super, super reveal what just happened, but if you have a theory feel free to let us know in the reviews. I'm trying to go for a situation whereas if you ever re-read this, it would make much more sense because you know what the outcome is going to be you feel? But also, I don't think I was subtle with that at all so maybe you've already got this thing figured out.

Finally, I tried to make Kiku's relationship with Alfred a little...idk interesting? Like I know Kiku is really proper and polite but I love to imagine he's a fair bit sassier in his head. Also, Alfred's attitude could easily annoy anyone, so from time to time even Kiku must get sick of him, but I'm hoping he also loves what's annoying about him. Did that come through okay, or was it too contradictory and confusing (minus Kiku's outburst, of course)?


	2. Chapter 2

So this chapter is kind of short. I'm sorry about that. I just...I don't have much time to write and I don't much know what more to write. I'm trying to slow the story down a bit, but also have things develop. Plus I don't think I did too decent a job on showing Kiku and Alfred's friendship in here but I tried. *sigh* let's just get to the story.

* * *

 _What just happened?_ Kiku stood staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, wide eyed and appalled. _What did I just do? What did I just SAY?_ The deep breaths he was taking betrayed him as his heartbeat tumbled on, a mile a minute. He could hear his voice echoing in his head:

"Don't. Touch. Me." Had he really sounded that...harsh when he said it? No. There was no way. He would never treat Alfred like that. He...didn't think...

He shook his head and sighed. What WAS he thinking? Himself, somehow more sensible than Alfred? Classier? More dignified? Better? He turned the facet handle and let a pool of cold water build in his hands before sloshing it onto his face. He watched a drop glisten down his chin as he reached for a face towel. His thoughts were the worst part of it; at least his mouth still had some control or he would have said the full phrase he wanted to: "Don't. Touch. Me. You, heathen." His mind wondered back to the moment, picking up a few insults and vainglorious comments. What had he done?

 _Well, I told the truth for once. What is the point of always holding and minimizing my emotions anyways? Maybe everyone around me will stop acting like idiots and madmen if I-_

He threw the towel down, lacerated that line of thought, and stormed out of the bathroom towards the kitchen. Maybe a tub of ice cream would make proper amends with Alfred, and maybe a couple sticks of pocky would calm him down. He walked cautiously back into his dim living room to find Alfred, fully recovered, and smiling at him.

"Dude, sweets?!"

"Ice cream. I found coffee flavored last time I went shopping and-" the tub was ripped from his hand before he finished the sentence. He let out an amused breath to counteract the thoughts of how rude the action was that cluttered his mind.

"Thanks, Keeks!"

"My name is not, nor has it ever been, 'Keeks'." There was that fearfully venomous voice again.

"Okay, man, take a joke. Who pissed in your cereal this morning?"

He found himself bowing for the second time in ten minutes as he said, "My apologies, Alfred. I really don't know what's gotten into me." He reclaimed his spot on the couch and popped open the box of Pocky. Alfred had swapped from Clannad to the reboot of Sailor Moon to give his emotions a break. That was, unless Sailor Jupiter was supposed to come about in this episode; Alfred was a fan, a BIG fan. Alfred pressed play and the intro music started to play; Kiku smiled lightly as his earlier days of watching the original Sailor Moon and falling in love with it resurfaced.

"Dude, it's your wife!" Alfred teased as Sailor Mercury flashed across the screen. Kiku seemed to have a different wife, who was sometimes male, for every show he watched. Alfred, one of his only nerd-friends, knew thought that his ultimate wife, or waifu as he called her, was Hatsune Miku, hands down. He chuckled into his fist at the joke.

"And where's yours?" Kiku asked, using his fingers to form 'V''s around his eyes in reference to Tuxedo Mask. He received a shove in response. The man wanted to laugh, but instead found himself a little irritated by the notion. He managed to keep quiet, but was certain he was glaring, which was something Alfred would pick up. The two sat on the couch, Kiku shifting back and forth, half forcing himself to get closer to Alfred and half feeling repulsed by the man. Alfred, in his usual obliviousness, enjoyed the show laughing at every joke and containing what would have been a horribly girly and embarrassing squeal at tuxedo mask's appearance.

"Hey, Kee- Kiku?" Instead of responding, Kiku looked at his friend by the corner of his eye.

"What's up with your kyemono...well, like...robe situation, bro?" Alfred commented, mouth half full of some chips he'd acquired, "your emblem is gone." Blinded by the darkness, the American couldn't see Kiku turn a Gilbert-like shade of white as he glanced frantically from his chest to the clock. The pills! In all the craziness he'd forgotten about watching the time for when to take the pills! It was now 4:28!

"I..yes, I" he stood, making his way towards the arch exit of the room, searching his mind for an excuse, "It's... let me just go re-calibrate it. This kimono's angel-identification physics have been a little odd lately. It's quite old." He scuffled out of the room to his bedroom, where a label-less pill bottle was tucked into the bottom of one of his drawers. He shook out a pill and looked at the time; luckily it was exactly 4:30, so that would make knowing when to re-dose easy. Without water due to nervousness and lack of time, he swallowed down the little white capsule and waited. The very moment his chest stopped burning, and the emblem resurfaced, he felt oddly...empty.

Not empty in a bad way, empty as to mean flushed out. As if before, his body was stuffed well past capacity and could burst at any moment.

 _What's in these things? Speaking of, England had yet to come over, as he'd promised, and explain the madness to me._ He grabbed his cellphone from one of the folds of his kimono, swapped his keyboard to English in the settings, and typed a quick message.

"Arthur-san, not to bother you, but I was wondering when you could come over to explain whatever it was that happened today. Also, are there any concerns with not taking pills on time or side-effects?" He pressed send, immediately regretted how informal he sounded, but stood regardless and made his way back to the show. Alfred had paused it in waiting, and was pleased to see a little man depicted on his Japanese friend's breast, with a hand crossed over his chest - the emblem of Pride.

* * *

Arthur felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, again, and again feared it was Kiku. How bloody many angels would he alone have to care for? The other six angels of magic, including his symbolic right and left hands, Lukas and Vlad, had all gone down to earth. There was a little girl, who was in a comma. If she died, she was destined to be an angel. If she didn't, she would need help to get out of the limbo of the spirit realm and into her body. For once, the angels of magic had something to do on the surface, and of course, they left Arthur in charge and completely alone. He had taken angel after angel on in an endless loop as the line out the door stretched around the block. He hadn't had time to take his lunch break, feed his unicorn, check his phone, or go and visit Kiku.

He untied a lock of bear's fur and threw it into the pot he was working over. Of course the spell he needed to now re-create four times to strip an angel of their emblem was extremely difficult to make. He'd had to swoop down to the earth, or even to the underworld's gates more than once to find new ingredients and continue to tweak the potion. Every angel's lifting concoction was a little bit different, and he had thus-far stripped Ludwig of the ability to be an angel of creativity, fun, and passion, but not yet of his actual role, strength. He poured a sample of the potion into another small cup and handed it to the bulky blonde in question. He sipped it, and, finally, God bless FINALLY, his emblem faded away.

"There! Took bloody long enough. Now, that will last the 2 days you were sentenced. Now, excuse me but, Vash, what kind of angel did you say you were again?" He had already started mixing a new bowl together.

"I'm also an angel of strength."

"Oh, great! Here, have this too!" He watched the other man drink, almost happy for the first time since his crazy shift had started, but the smile faded- rather vanished - with Vash's emblem didn't.

"You said Angel of Strength, right?"

"Yes."

"So...then why..." that was when a little girl in the corner coughed, and roused Arthur's attention. He glanced in the general direction and quickly located an angel he had given assignment earlier that same, endless day.

"Lillie, dear what brings you back here? I'm in an appointment."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm just waiting on my bruder." He hand raised as she made a gesture towards the man Arthur was taking an empty, ineffectual cup from. He turned blue.

"Your brother, is Vash here?"

"Yes."

"Are you two blood related?"

"Yes," the man in question interjected with a twinge of anger, "why all the questions for my sister?"

"It's just, if she is an Angel of Learning, it's likely that any blood relatives she spends a copious amount of time with will have a fair bit of the ability in themselves as well," The blue in his face faded to green, "so to strip you of your emblem I'll have to eradicate that as well."

Arthur had had the potion for stripping an angel of learning of their powers memorized. The very first ingredient, was the naturally-shed blood of a bird. The man almost nearly cried at the thought of having to track birds, wait for one of them to cut themselves, and then follow the blasted thing around until it dripped enough blood into his cup. Again, Arthur's phone vibrated. He screamed a slew of sacrilegious curses.

* * *

Kiku, who had by now sent Alfred on his way and found a watch to keep on, contemplated as he fell through the skies. The Pocky, precious little treat that it was, did indeed calm his nerves, or whatever that was, around Alfred. He would need to keep some in stock in his cupboard. An outbreak like that repeating was not acceptable. After all, Alfred was one of his best friends. The man was either more dim or more forgiving that the others Kiku could see putting on this list, but had he said anything even remotely close to that to his other friends, the result would have been disastrous. Arthur would take clear offence and leave, Yao, Li, or Yong Soo would turn on him and act just as nasty back, Feliciano and Gilbert would have cried, and he couldn't even piece together how others like Ludwig or Heracles would have reacted. He cared for his friends, cared for their opinion of him, and would not disrespect them like that.

He waited.

He waited for the thought to come in a slice his previous statement in half, to ensure him that his feelings of repulsion from them were justified. It never came. He would certainly have to keep his Pocky well stocked. Just then, the man opened his wings at let them catch the wind. He glided across the terrain of what he assumed was his home country when he was human; Japan. He found it to be a truly beautiful country from the ancient architecture and peaceful coastlines, to bustling city and reaching tourist attractions. The human he had been called to help was on the edge of Hokaido, where he now found himself gliding to the ground. As usual, he was early, so he retracted his wings and took a seat on the ground as a scene played out in front of him in his native language.

"What do you think, mother? I think it's quite nice."

"It's fine, Kenji." They were referring to a report the boy had written for school.

"Do you think-"

"Just wait for the grade, Kenji!" the mother snapped back before turning to resume her gardening. Kenji stared at her for several seconds, before making his way back inside, clearly angry. Kiku stood to follow him and walked quite literally through the door of the boys house and flew after him up the stairs. The door slammed in his face also had to be phased through.

"DON'T SLAM THE DOORS LIKE THAT!" A clearly older man cried out.

"Okay, father," Kenji replied. His voice sounded of true remorse and obedience, but on his face he was rolling his eyes 'bout into the next dimension. Kiku all too well understood this boy's struggle with containing himself and chuckled as he checked his watch. 6:02 pm - he still had plenty of time until he needed to re-dose. So far, so good. He refocused his attention to Kenji, who had just opened up some application on his phone allowing him to talk with a friend through video chat.

"Yea, so like, I read my mom my report and of course she freaked out on me. She basically had nothing good to say. Thanks mother. So supportive." The girl on the other line laughed and assured him it was okay.

"She's probably right anyway," he retorted with a sigh.

"Kenji-kun! No! You can't say stuff like that." Sensing a moment of truth coming, Kiku held his palm out and summoned his bow to it, eyes locked on Kenji. Upon generating, his bow was a fair bit heavier than he'd expected, and it fell to the ground. He then turned to pick it up.

It wasn't his bow. There were no arrows to accompany it. Instead, lying on the ground was a steel blade, curved to perfection, arching itself into a black, rubbery handle. Kiku recognized it immediately as the weapon of his people - a katana. He found himself allured to it; it was truly beautiful and seemed to fit his hand perfectly, not to mention it had a clear emblem of Pride glowing in the center of it. With more of his strength in mind, Kiku again grasped the handle and raised the weapon. It almost seemed like an extension to his arm.

"Kenji-kun, listen, Ando-Sensei is hard grader! You can't just get a low 'B' and think you're terrible when the rest of the class for 60's at best. You can't let your mom totally crush you." There it was, the window of opportunity Kiku needed. He stepped closer to Kenji, bow and ar- well, katana at the ready. _How do I do this? Just...slice through him with it? That seems a little heinous. Maybe I'll just nick his back to make sure this thing is safe._

With a precision he didn't know he had, Kiku sliced his new discovery through Kenji and left there a bright red lighting trail. After a few milliseconds, it evaporated, and Kenji smiled, new motivation found.

"You are so right Roko-chan! I think I did a damn good job on this and my mom not caring, as usual, doesn't change that." Roko clapped.

"Screw my freaking mom."

"Whoa, Kenji-kun!"

"No, don't whoa me! She deserves it! What has she ever done for me other than birth me? I could be a terrible child. I could do drugs, get girls pregnant, go to jail, or act like Hitadashi-san, but I don't! She should be grateful to have me in her life and she never is! I always do so well, and this essay is just more proof! Wait for the grade she says - very well, I will! And when I get an 'A', then what will she say?"

"Kenj-"

"NOTHING! She'll just eat her stupid dinner in silence like she always does. And that's the same thing she can do when she's old and decrepit and wants me to care about her. Don't look my way. Better hope your other son has something saved up for you because I don't have any yen to spare."

"I get that you're mad, Ken-kun, but maybe you should calm down on all that before someone hears you. You're usually the biggest advocate for 'respect your elders'. I never thought you would say-"

"Whatever Roko-chan. I didn't come here for judgement. Mostly because I don't deserve any." He pressed end on his call and rolled over in bed just as Kiku flew out of the room, leaving the sword behind. What had that thing done? Kenji seemed like such a sweet boy and then it just comes in and...and...and!

He set a marker on the spot for several different types of angels, including his brother, an Angel of Familial Love, to come and re-asses.

It was that katana. It had to be. He still had his emblem, it wasn't even close to time to re-take his medication, he'd just eaten three pocky sticks, the only thing different here was the sword. It claimed to be a sword of Pride, and was beautifully alluring to the Japanese man, but he now found himself repulsed by it.

 _Where had that demonic thing come from anyways? And where is Arthur-san already?_ Kiku's jaunty wings whipped through the winds as he soared away at near top speeds.

* * *

Okay. There you have it. The next chapter I guess. I do not think it is very good but I don't have time to re-write it (if I tried this chapter would never come out,guys). So, the be fair to those you waiting, here ya go. Hopefully the next one is less sucky. *half-hearted smile*


	3. Chapter 3

Alright, so updates are going to be few and far between, we may as well all just come to accept that because there's LITTLE I can do about it. My life is just too hectic to keep up with this posting every week or something like other author's do. For this reason, I'll try to keep them long. Right now I am neglecting lots of homework and college applications (oh crap) to write, so I hope you guys enjoy the fruits of my efforts!

In this chapter I sort of gently tapped the fourth wall. Hope no one minds. It also ended up a fair bit longer than usual. Ha. Oops.

* * *

"I see, Ludwing-san, that's pretty rough." It was the morning after the katana incident and Kiku had not allowed himself to claim or go on any other missions since. He woke, took his pill, bathed, dressed, ate, and sat down for a cup of morning tea. He watched the sun rise as he drank and then retired inside to at least get some reports done if he wasn't going to do his work on earth. He'd also tried twice during the early morning to regenerate his bow and arrows. The first time, the katana landed gingerly in his hand and he immediately let it dissipate from his thoughts and vanish from the air. The second time, it appeared in his fist and caught a fleck of sunlight. It blinded him momentary, causing the man to wince and shut his eyes. Upon opening them, he stared at the sword for a moment. And a moment more. And a moment more. His reflection looked back at him, porcelain skin against a background of jett-black hair and raven eyes. He tilted the weapon and allowed light to hit it again, watching as a stream of white hit the blade. He thought then that he should forget about it, poof it up into air, make thing disappear, and try again for his bow and arrows.

But, he didn't want to. He genuinely didn't want to, and opted instead to stare at it wide eyed for a few minutes more, completely forgetting about the passing of time. That was when the doorbell rang, he finally did remove the instrument from existence, and he went off to greet his guests. They turned out to be his old friends, Ludwig and Feliciano. It wasn't like the two, well, it wasn't like Ludwig to come over unannounced, but he said Feliciano had begged quite persistently, and so, there they were. Their group was a little awkward for the man at times, as the blonde and brunette seemed to be much closer to each other than he could ever get with either of them, but this was the fate of a friend circle of three. Regardless of his interpreted distance from them, he loved and trusted them just the same. So, when Ludwig came over with a collar on his ankle to track his location, his emblem missing and replaced with a triangle of caution, and a bubbly Italian chasing his feet, he was happy to let them in. He heard the story of where the collar had come from, the punishments Ludwig was receiving for his blunder, and sympathized with his friend over what was now a kitchen table full of tea and snacks.

"It could be worse," the blonde man reasoned, uncomfortably petting the head of a brunette who'd snuggled into him in despair. Ludwig had, on his last mission, forgotten to claim it before going. Multiple angels, including a Mrs. Hedevary, and a man named Vlad, had forgotten to claim as well. Five angels ended up ambushing and sending high-strength arrows into the same woman. She reacted a bit...drastically...considering Ludwig and Vlad's function was as Angels of Strength, Hedevary's an Angel of Confidence, and the other two something similar. The woman, in the end, got herself arrested, and for causing more harm than good to a human's life, Ludwig was on a temporary punishment.

"What do you mean it could be worse, Ludwig? This is the worst! While you're on probation we can only hang out certain hours of the day." He looked drearily forwards, at Kiku, then over his head, sad eyes lingering from the cabinets to the clock to the fridge and back to the table. "Really, Feliciano-chan, it's just two days. I think you will be alright." Kiku chuckled to himself silently as Feliciano took a big gulp of tea and patted his chest with a rough fist, seeming to have trouble getting it down along with a handful of something he'd hastily eaten.

"Yes," Ludwig commented, "not sneaking into my house for two nights won't kill you." The German man actually smiled, seeming pleased at the silence he was about to be blessed with, which earned a pout from his friend and closer snuggling.

"I'll be so lonely."

"You will have your brother with you, Lovino-san."

"Lovi never wants to sleep with me anymore!" Kiku pulled back slightly, and then relaxed. He always had to remind himself that nine times out of ten, Feliciano really did just mean sleep.

"Feliciano, why don't you sleep in your own room?"

"It's dark in there, Luddy!"

"Don't call me that."

"You could turn on a night light or dim lamp," the Japanese man tried, tilting his head to the side and smiling lightly. Sometimes, dealing with Feliciano felt like dealing with a child, or a kicked puppy, and it was always amusing to find the solution to the man's petty problem and make him smile and grow giddy again. Speak of the devil, he heard a bark from the side room and all three of their heads turned to the source. Another bark. Following this, Pochi, Kiku's small dog, ran into the room, under the table, and took refuge from the three, much bigger dogs chasing him, in his owner's lap.

"Pochi-kun? Where you not playing nice?"

"I'm pretty sure that was Blackie, actually," Ludwig commented, offering the dog a stern glare. It tucked it's tail between it's legs and took a few, low steps of retreat. "She's been a little feisty lately for whatever reason." Kiku offered his dog a bread crust from the table, which he happily took and ran to another room to eat in private. The three other pets followed in suit, perhaps hoping to get a bite themselves.

"I've been thinking of getting a husky," Ludwig added, hoping to change the subject, "I've wanted one for so long, and I found some husky puppies for sale. They're very expensive, but I'd like one. Gilbert, maybe not, but I also found an albino, baby chicken, that I think I could get for him to make up for bringing yet another dog into the house."

"The house I can't go into!" Feliciano cried! The blond rolled his eyes and moaned at his failed diversion and Kiku spoke up.

"Feliciano, stop complaining," he snapped, purposely leaving off the honorific as a sign of disrespect he genuinely hoped the other picked up on, "sleeping in your own bed for two nights won't kill you. Stop being so weak if you want to associa..." he trailed off, staring at the table, eyes a little wide, having caught himself. He is eyes scanned in search of his holy grale and came up empty. Where had he put the pocky?! Oh yes, in his bedroom dresser, so he could always be near it. Foolish. He stood immediately with plans of retrieving it, plans that were trumped by a rough hand gripping his wrist.

"Kiku, that was quite...rude," the German man said pointedly, with an equally confused and threatening glare towards his friend.

"I-"

"You called me just Feliciano."

"I-" he stumbled on his words, regretting his snap decision to have done that.

"You called me just Feliciano!" the Italian cried, standing and...smiling? He actually jumped for joy, clasping his hands together on the way down. "You told me you only call people that, like without the little end thingie, if you're really close to them! So you're saying we're close friends now?!"

Kiku stared at the man, completely blank in the face, trying to think of the appropriate response. Or even process what was just said. Had the rude words he threw at him completely flown over this Italian's head and into some abyss? A silence befell the three as Kiku pondered. What he'd meant, when he said no honorifics was reserved for close people, was someone one was in a romantic relationship with. He couldn't possibly continue to call Feliciano just that under this pretext and keep a straight face. He also couldn't do that because it'd only be a matter of time before his other friends caught on, and then they would wonder why he didn't refer to them without honorifics. If he did it for one, he'd have to do it for all, or it'd be quite insulting, and he just couldn't bring himself to do that. He tried to imagine just the syllables for 'Ludwig' coming off his tongue, but just couldn't complete the thought without the 'san' accompaniment. Doing so made him think of himself and Ludwig, cuddling under a blanket, or perhaps spooning on the couch, himself the little spoon, the gentle blues of a television screen bouncing off their bodies as they watched a cute movie in the dark. Muscular arms would embrace him as he nuzzled into the other's warmth, not at all embarrassed by the closeness given their privacy. A loving smile would creep across Ludwig's face as he planted a tender kiss in his lover's hair. They would gaze longingly into each other's eyes, both blushing lightly, and share a sweet kiss under the window's stream of moonlight.

No. Just no. There was TOO MUCH wrong with that image!

"Kiku." He felt his hypothetical boyfriend tug on his arm to draw his attention from the thought he'd lost himself in.

"I- no- I...Feliciano-san," the Italian drooped at his new name, "It's not a symbol of close friends, it's a symbol of romantic closeness, so, no. That's not what I'd meant." Ludwig then did one of his odd habits, a result of being around his dogs too often, and mimicked the action of a canine, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

"What then did you mean by it, Kiku?"

"I...It...Well...it's a little disrespectful to...dis-include the honorific...but, I was just mocking that tradition!" he lied. Mocking and tradition had to come out of his mouth in succession, and left a bitter taste. He hoped desperately that his friends bought the excuse. "Anyways Feliciano-san, I shouldn't have done it and confused you like that. I apologize." He bowed slightly before shaking free of the German's grip and heading down the hall and into his drawer. He stuffed four crushed sticks of pocky into his mouth as best and quickly as he could before heading back to the kitchen. Feliciano frowned at him upon entry, seeming to have not yet collected himself.

"You were mocking me?" he began, eyes glazing over, "that's so mean."

"We-" Kiku paused, having caught himself and felt his heart drop. He was not about to say 'well you deserved it'. He was not. That thought did NOT cross his mind.

"I know," he said instead, "I've been very snappy lately and have said many rude things. I'm not entirely sure what's causing it, but I don't mean what I said. I don't mean to mock you."

"Do you hate me?" the Italian asked in a quiet voice while fighting his tears.

"No," Kiku replied, with a smile.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No. Of course not. You've done no wrong."

"And, you don't think I'm weak?"

"I-" He wanted to say 'I do not', just to appease his friend, but the words would not let themselves leave his mouth. He instead settled for shaking his head.

"Oh, Vee~~!" The brunette perked up instantly, smiling and bouncing about in his seat. Ludwig wearily eyed Kiku, but seemed to settle for his answers, and looked back at the tea he had yet to take a sip from.

"Maybe it's time we get going," Ludwig suggested, standing, "I have things to do before my time to roam runs out and you could use some space, right?"

"Ah, yes, perhaps that would be for the best," the Raven-haired man remarked, nodding. He quickly ushered the two out before pressing his back on the door and sinking down into it. Their engagement had ended as quickly as it began and in the span of a quick forty-five minutes, Kiku had managed to nearly destroy one of his longest standing friendships. Pocky or not, this was getting out of hand. His thoughts, his behavior, his failed missions, the katana, and this feeling of swelling in his body was all too much! Something had to give or he-

Wait.

Swelling?

He looked at the clock, ticking away on a wall adjacent him. Time really must have flown this morning, as he was finding now that he was already seventeen minutes late on his medication. Kiku sighed and traversed back down the hall and into his bathroom. One pill, a gulp of water, and a burning of the chest later and the swelling was gone. Again, a peaceful emptiness took hold of his form. He eyed his reflection and frowned at himself, picking up his abandoned train of thought.

What was going on?

* * *

By the time Arthur awoke, it was one in the afternoon. He stared at the clock on his bedside table for a couple seconds in confusion as it slowly processed on him that he'd missed his morning. While normally, he'd rise swearing and rush to his usual daytime ritual to try to catch up, today he wasn't upset in the slightest. He even flopped back onto the bed, and unplugged his phone from the charger feeling his sleeping in was well deserved. Last night, he finished working on angels at eleven after a consistent stream of traffic into the hall. He then had to clean the horrible mess he and his patients had made, re-stacking books, restocking shelves, and replacing fallen chairs. It took him another hour and a half to get the entire hall done, and he'd skipped the garbage run in his grogginess. After working from eight one morning to twelve thirty the next morning, he left a note saying he was planning on being sick the next day, went home, changed, ate the quickest meal he could think of (pre-made scones and tea made from shamefully microwaved water), and fell face-first into bed at around two. He'd hardly ever been more tired.

So now, the man scrolled through his still unchecked phone to see what he'd missed. A text message from Vlad delivered around eight that morning reading: "Sorry about yesterday. Sleep tight ;)" a slew of emails that he didn't feel a need to check just then, an alert from the news channel he most preferred, talking about the likelihood of the clouds they lived on ever raining, three missed calls, one of which from an unknown number, 17 texts from his younger brother, each one containing a single letter, and another text.

From Kiku.

"Arthur-san, not to bother you, but I was wondering when you could come over to explain whatever it was that happened today? Also, are there any concerns with not taking pills on time or side-effects?"

...Crap.

Now fully awake, he slung himself from bed and raced to his bathroom. Once the toothbrush had toothpaste, he took it back to his room, brushing and staring into his closet trying to figure out what to wear. The man plucked out a white button up, beige sweater, light green bow tie, and white slacks before sprinting back to the bathroom to spit, attempting to beat a pile of foam keen on landing on his floor. He threw his clothes on at record pace, finished the rest of his morning ritual save a cup of tea, and bolted out the door. There was traffic in the road, flight patterns in the sky looked tight, and the streets were lined with people. Arthur weighed his options for a few seconds before expanding his wings and taking to the sky, completing the hole in a group of angels flying in a triangle. What was faster was better. He broke from the group and joined another in a "V" formation when he needed to take a left and before too much longer, he leaned his body forward and glided to the ground. At the same time he retracted his wings, he knocked three stiff times on the door before him and shifted his feet in wait.

The door creaked open.

"Oh, hello Arthur-san," a short, but powerful Japanese angel commented, smiling at him from half-way behind the door.

"Kiku! I'm so sorry!" Arthur was panting from the flight where he may or may not have broken several airspeed regulations "I, I've just had the hardest time at work, and, I got...I got up late this morning...and... oh!... I should've c-come sooner!"

"It's alright Arthur-san, I understand, but I am glad you're here," an awkward silence stood between them for a few seconds until Kiku stepped to the side and opened the door fully, "Maybe some tea?"

"Please. I had to skip mine this morning." Arthur was invited in, the kettle boiled, the tea was served, they sipped, they sat, they looked up at one another, and all at once the mood in the room changed. Kiku knew what the other party was there for, he just didn't know how to approach the topic. He didn't want to seem accusatory, and would need to start delicately. Yes, delicate.

"Arthur-san?"

"Yes, Kiku?"

"What are those pills you gave me?" Well...so much for that plan. Arthur set down his tea cup and clasped his hands in front of himself, smiling lightly.

"Straight to the point I see? Alright, let me explain. Kiku, you...your..," he paused, bringing his clasped hands up to rest underneath his chin and frowning. He'd forgotten in his rush to think through his speech and there was a lot he couldn't forget to say. A lot more he had to say with careful precision. "Well," he drummed his fingers on the backs of his hands, "as you know, your emblem of Pride does not appear unless you've taken the pills."

"Yes."

"Well, this is because they're blockers."

"Blockers?"

"Yes."

"I do not understand what you mean by that, Arthur-san."

"Yes, well, blockers are used to block a certain part of your genetic make-up. When an angel gets their wings temporarily revoked, as apposed to cutting them off, blockers are used to block the DNA strands that would give the person wings. When one needs to go to earth and blend in, blockers keep them from glowing in the sunlight, among-st other things."

"So, the blockers in the pills you gave me are keeping me from..." Kiku realized he didn't know what they were keeping him from. It didn't make sense that they blocked anything, because they actually added to him, and gave him an emblem he wouldn't otherwise have. "from what, exactly?"

"They keep a new development in your spirit from taking hold."

"What...new development?"

This was where things got tricky. Arthur paused for all of fifteen seconds to carefully select the words he would use next from his vast, English vocabulary. The somber silence in the room before the other man answered sent a chill through Kiku and a bout of anxiety to his stomach. Arthur cleared his throat.

"The developments of the sins you committed in your human life."

Neither party moved an inch as Arthur awaited a response and Kiku stared at him blankly. His human life? His sins? He knew very little about his human life, and "sin" was not a word an angel generally liked to hear coupled with "your". The man knew from looking at himself that he was Japanese, and assumed from the collection of languages that he knew for whatever reason that he was likely born in Japan, as Japanese came easiest to him, and that he had exposure to China and an English speaking nation or person at some point. As a human he assumed he was called Honda Kiku, as that was the name he carried into the clouds, but then again he couldn't be sure. Assuming that he was Honda Kiku though, knew some things for a fact based on the things he'd secretly read in the obituaries about himself. He had had a wife who he called Hana, two girls, one of which who'd passed at the early age of seven, and a son as his middle child. He was the owner of a game developing company and a naval general in his lifetime. He had not died in battle and received many honors. There was Yao's theory that Yao, Mei, and Li were blood related siblings, with Im Yong Soo and Kiku himself adopted into the family for whatever reason, but considering the differences in time of when they died, that didn't make sense. However, it was something to take into consideration, because Kiku, as an elder angel, was under the impression that he died nearly three thousand years ago, well before the invention of video games, his supposed career's center focus, so certain things just didn't add up. As a human being, he must have sinned, all humans do, but asking him to recall what sins he committed was too much. He didn't even know when he died, or how he'd felt about himself, or what other people'd thought of him. His human life was completely wiped from his mind when he entered the angelic realm, and would only return to him when he ascended to the heavens and reunited with his past-away family and friends.

Kiku suddenly remembered that he had to breathe, and took in a large breath before sighing it out slowly. He let his eyes refocus and grabbed his mind, forcing it back into the present conversation.

"Arthur-san, I'm still confused."

"More often than not, the personality an angel had as a human carries with them into our world," the other man began to explain, "and an angel's role is often decided by their personality or interests. So, an angel of Joy was likely very joyous as a human." Kiku nodded, trying to imagine himself as a human, perhaps leading some of his troops, with a proud, dignified smile on his face.

"However," Arthur continued, "humans sin far more than we angels do. Each of their sins is either a direct opposite of the ten commandments, or can fall into one of seven categories."

"The seven deadlies," Kiku contributed.

"Exactly. I believe that with you, your personality's most positive trait, your Pride, was also your most commonly referred to deadly sin."

"How is that possible?"

"Well, each and every characteristic can be twisted to seem good or bad. Sloth for example, it can be seen in a good light as relaxation, or a more positive thing like being selfless, can be taken too far and come with a side of self-deprecation. So, as an angel your human-self's Pride has been elevated into meaning an inherently good thing. What's happening now, is that the bad side, an excess of Pride, is starting to come out."

"So, the medication keep the bad side from showing itself, and makes it look like I only have...good Pride?"

"Yes. Exactly. It's a little tricky lately, because when I've seen this in the past, the good side and the bad side are not the same thing. So, I could mask someone's bad side permanently, leave their good side in tact, and send them on their merry way."

"Okay, so...what are you saying? What is the penalty of my bad side coming out? What does that mean?" The man furrowed his brows in confusion and scooted forwards to the edge of his seat, putting him a bit closer to Arthur despite the table between the two.

"Kiku, you must have messed up your dosages as of lately. What have you noticed about yourself while you're not on the medication?"

The Asian man in the room bit his lip at this question and looked wearily at Arthur. Arthur, an angel of Magic. One of the main angels grouped under the Angels of Angels. What if the man was only collecting information to use in a case against him? He trusted Arthur, they were friends, but he also knew Arthur had his integrity to keep up, and preferred not to lie. So where were his loyalties now? "I have been a little short of patience, and said some regrettable things to people," he said, choosing to omit his failed missions and sudden katana issue.

"What about how you've been feeling?"

"Feeling? F-Fine I suppose." Arthur sighed, ran his fingers over his eyebrows as if coaxing their hairs back into place, and braced himself for an overreaction.

"It means you're slowly becoming more demonic," he said.

Kiku's heart forgot to beat.

His eyes widened slowly as moments of his life passed before them, specifically the moment every angel had to experience at a young age, essentially to scare them into behaving- going to the stairs. He was led by Yao down a pitch black corridor with a heavy, steel door at the end. The hall was so dark he couldn't see an inch in front of his face, and would have been scared to walk blindly if it wasn't for his elder leading him. Yao opened the door, with a fair bit of struggle simply at the weight of the thing, and walked with Kiku out onto a platform. Just below the platform was the first step of about twelve stories worth leading into the Lower Level. It was dark, everything covered in a layer of grunge and soaked in the stench of decay. Blood spatters coated some of the top stairs from unwilling victims who'd been forced to go down. All around them, fire. Twisting red, white, and yellow flames emitting an unbearable heat cracked and popped threateningly. He'd heard a horrified cry of a man's voice coming from the depth below, where the stairs got so far from him that they faded into blackness. With another muffled scream of agony, this time from a woman, the flames climbed higher on the walls, screaming and cracking, sending sparks to soil his skin, encasing the dark grey room in soot and charcoal. Completely mortified, Kiku couldn't move. He hadn't even heard Yao call out to him, but vaguely felt himself being pulled backwards at some point, out of the room. Back then, his eyes were just as wide, his fear was just as high, the pit in his stomach just as deep. His hands that were hidden under the table began to tremble.

"Arthur-san..."

"No one's throwing you into the Lower Level just yet Kiku, as long as you stay on your pills this should blow over with time and you'll be fine." Almond-shaped eyes glanced down to their beholder's shaking hands. He balled them into fists. A rare determination was seen in his eyes, and he willingly ignored his forcefully polite nature.

"I'm no demon Arthur-san."

"I know, I agree."

"And there's nothing wrong with being a little proud of yourself. Of your accomplishments!"

"Yes, Kiku. No one is trying to accuse you of anything. You just have to think here; you've seen yourself off your pills. You've probably acted in ways you never thought you would, or had appalling thoughts. Really now, think about how you've been feeling. At some point white magic turns black, joy becomes overjoy, empathy becomes pity. There is always a tipping point. Something in you just snaps, and pride becomes..." he drew off, waiting for the other to finish his sentence. Silence filled the room and Arthur let out a sigh. "How have you been feeling about other people Kiku?"

The other man did not answer, but absorbed the question. He wasn't feeling anything out of the ordinary. Alfred-san was still boisterous and fun loving...and...Kiku's thoughts lingered on that, his eyes drawing to slits. Boisterous, and fun loving like a puppy, but also idiotic like a puppy. Every time the larger man touched him, Kiku felt a heat of distaste and disgust course through his body. The man had no respect for others. Feliciano, on the other hand, was simply pathetic. He would burst into sobs at the drop of a pen, and the thought of him doing so nearly made bile build in Kiku's throat. How could someone be that pitiful?

"How have you been feeling about yourself?" Arthur asked, after having noticed his Asian companions eyes narrow and the corners of his lips edge slightly downwards.

"About myself," Kiku began, feeling a little rude for not answering the last question, "I've been...feeling...quite well." Yes he was feeling quite well about himself. He was feeling amazing about himself. What was there not to like? He was handsome, short he'd admit, but he had a presence about himself, known in the community, well respected, talented, perfectly polite even to the most undeserving of creatures, a master of his trades, poised, graced, and highly esteemed. He was nearly perfect.

Kiku almost gagged on this thought as a feeling swelled in his chest. Nearly perfect? Had he really just thought that? He glanced down to make certain his emblem was still glowing even though he knew it wasn't time yet for another pill. The blockers seemed to keep him from saying just any old thing, but his thoughts were clearly corrupted.

"Kiku?"

"Yes?"

"I will ask again. What does pride become when it crosses the line?"

Long, black eyelashes swept in several blinks as the Asian thought. Everyone else seemed utterly repulsive to him, while he himself was a model to live by. He snapped at others for not thinking like him and genuinely felt sick or pained to be around their ignorance. He could conceal his words all he wanted to, but there was always the thought pushing in the back of his mind, insisting he was right. That he was always right. That no one had the right to challenge him or act out against him because he was a Honda man. And he was right. And he was to be respected. No one deserved his respect. It had to be earned at these pathetic angels were doing a pathetic job at that. He. Was. Right.

"Pride..." the black haired man began, a little pain in his voice at what he was about to call himself, "Pride becomes superiority."

"Superiority?"

"You think you're superior to others?"

 _I am._ The thought lingered on Kiku's tongue as his face burned. All he could manage in response was a slight nod.

"So, you you understand now why you must stay on your medication?"

"Yes, Arthur-san, I do." His voice shook.

"I promise it won't be forever, Kiku," the man reached a hand across the table and placed it on top of the others. Kiku quickly drew away. "It's just until this wares off. I'll keep checking in with you every so often, but, I'm telling you everything will be fine."

Kiku blinked several rapid times, "Alright, that sounds like a nice plan. Thank you." A hard lump built in his throat.

"Any questions for me, chap?" Arthur asked with a pleasant smile. Kiku shook his head, and continued blinking as his vision grew slightly blurry.

It has been previously discussed how Kiku Honda is a very good actor by nature. The majority of the time, the man is not trying to look composed, he simply comes across that way. So, as Arthur studied his friend, he noticed a light pink push to the surface of his skin in some form of embarrassment, and quickly recede. Kiku made eye contact with him, and nodded, confirming everything the two had just spoken about. It said he understood, and his confusion was replaced in full with his usual air of elegance. Arthur was a fair bit surprised the other was taking this so well, usually this conversation ended in tears, a fight, screaming, or some other such hysterics. His smile widened as he finished off the last sip of his tea and stood from the table.

"Well then, Honda, I will keep in touch. Call me if you need anything! Feel free to come by The Hall when you need another bottle." and with just that, the man took his leave, slipping from the room and out the door.

Kiku heard the door close with an echoing click. Not a muscle in his body dared move him from his spot, and he stared straight forward, but didn't see anything. His body felt empty. Me. Honda Kiku. A...a demon. His chest began to tense, awakening him to the fact that he was holding his breath. A demon with a superiority complex. Me. His entire body grew hot as a deep crimson blush overtook his face. The man was trembling. Oh God. Oh Lord. He inhaled a sharp breath and set it out shakily as tears began to well in his eyes. No. This can't be happening. Never before had he ever been so...shamed. And so scared. No, no, no, nonono. It can't be. A random drop of water slipped from his eyelash and onto his hand; Kiku had to try to look at his hand and instead see an impossible to discern, blurry, pale blob to understand he was crying. I've always been a man deserving of my title. His eyes squeezed shut. I've followed every rule. I've done everything right! And now my thoughts are just corrupted by...by what exactly? Hatred? He bit his lip as the first sob took his body. He lowered his head to the table. How can I dare call myself an angel? Look what I've done! To my patients on earth...more like my victims. To my friends. Look what I've become! He felt completely stripped, as if he was bare and naked, awkwardly shapeless stature and uneven skin-tone on display for all the realm to see. The man felt all his greatest fears come to light at once. He was a disgrace, a cowardly disgrace to all of his kind. How dare he sit in that kitchen and cry like some prepubescent child? How could he turn his back on his morals and doom himself to a flaming eternity? Every thought he'd had off of his medication care to him, reverberating off his skull.

 _"Maybe everyone around me will stop acting like idiots"_

 _"This man has absolutely no grasp of human decency."_

 _"I am a Honda."_

 _When had I become so...disgusting? It's only a matter of time. It's only a matter of time before Aldarik or Everet or Yao or God finds out. Maybe Arthur's gone right now to tell them all. I'm already too far gone._ His sobs grew heavier, further displeasing himself. _I'm doomed. I'm going straight to Hell and what better do I deserve?!_ Without a moment to pause, to think, to rationalize, Kiku jumped up from the table and nearly fell into his side counter. He grabbed a steak knife from his knife display and it made it's way through his palm. The man let out a cry and fell to his knees, clutching his wrist a the siring pain. He watched the blood ooze out, dripping through the cracks in his flexed fingers and onto the hardwood.

 _"You see you pathetic, little shit?"_ a voice not different from his but not quiet like his own cooed in his head, _"This is what you get."_

* * *

"What an odd place to end the chapter, Sunny! Kiku is acting crazy! He would never do that!" I know reader, I know. Bear with me. Apperantly I'm bad at writing suspense, because I just revealed a LOT and this what...chapter 3? But don't worry, there's still more to descover. ;)

The whole resolution to this chapter was unplanned. My fingers were just typing and then next thing I knew Kiku was nearing sepuku (lol spelling?). I hope his emotions came through properly. I don't think Kiku is the type to just burst into tears, or just stab himself, but he is kind of under the influence right now, and Japan is the kind of character, I think, that has a lot of self confidence and knows certain things to be true about his character. When you take those things from him, if he can't get them back, I'd imagine he'd feel ashamed. Shame is like basically the worst thing to have in Japanese history because it leads to you killing yourself without so much as batting an eyelash 99% of the time, but since Kiku here is an angel I don't think he'd jump to suicide, and if he did this would be a very short story. So there. Self harm.

I actually have a lot of feelings on the way Japan and 2p!Japan act, but I'd like to hear you guys' opinions for writing purposes. In the reviews, please tell me your Japan/2Ppan headcanons!

I was really unsure of if I wanted to get to the plot in this chapter. Well, the like, have Arthur come over part of the plot. I could've pushed it back another chapter, but, I decided to just cut down the Kiku-acts-strange portion and throw it in. I hope it doesn't feel too fast. There's still plenty more drama to come! Goodbye lovelies, thank you for reading :)


	4. Chapter 4

I had the whole plan for this story written out, but then, I lost the paper. SO, I re-planned it all this week and my goodness am I excited to write it! Hopefully I do it some justice! With that being said, let's get right back the drama! Human names are all the same, but, here's one you may not be aware of, **Mei is Taiwan.**

* * *

 **Angels VS Demons**

* * *

Kiku recognized that he had lost a fair bit of his mental stability due to Arthur's confession. He'd been scared, shamed, and confused by it all, and would admit that it was a lot to take in.

However, maybe, by _some_ people's standards, forcing a blade through your hand is a _bit_ of an overreaction.

At this point, the man was beginning to wonder if he had any of this so called "sanity" left at all. He was standing in his kitchen, ignoring the pain and the tears striping down his cheeks, to simply stare at the black handle of the serrated knife currently inside his palm. The knife he'd put there about six minutes ago. He twisted his wrist to the side, and studied then the blooded blade coming out the back, piercing right through his porcelain skin.

"I stabbed myself in the hand just now." He'd said it aloud as a means of confirmation that the act had in fact happened. That he was not crazy. Though, he figured, he probably was crazy considering he stabbed himself in the hand just now. Kiku breathed particularly hard on his hand, and just the air from it stung horribly. He began to wonder how he'd go about getting the knife _back out_.

 _I've completely lost my mind._ That part he kept concealed as he stared blank-faced at the weapon. He used his other, uninjured hand to grab the handle, jostling it ever so slightly in the process. He winced. _On the count of three...one...two...wait, count of four, we'll do count of four. Alright. One...two...okay maybe count of five! Oh...just do it, Kiku!_

Off like a Band-Aid became out like a knife as he plucked the blade away all at once. Externally, the man was simply flexing his fingers; internally, he was screaming bloody murder. _I'm never doing that again! SO MANY REGRETS!_ From the pain's influence, the Japanese man held his hand out daintily and awkwardly in front of himself as he reached on tip-toe to the cabinets above his stove. He'd opened them, and pulled out a small, blue bin where he kept his medical supplies. Under nighttime and daytime medicine, ibuprophen, Advil, a prescription he'd yet to finish and should probably throw away, and allergy medication from that one year where it was particularly dusty, was his first-aid kit. Upon popping it open, he found it was essentially useless. No gauze, no cotton, no wipes, no disinfectant, he couldn't even try to slap a Band-Aid on it. Perfect.

So, what would have been medical gauze tied around his mangled hand was now quickly-reddening toilet paper in the same position. Kiku figured he'd need to go out and buy gauze, which then made him figure he'd have to go outside. With toilet paper wrapped around his hand. A hand that, did anyone ask what happened to it, or heaven forbid, actually _see_ the wound, he would have no logical explanation for. And, dear Lord, what if he ran into Arthur while he was out? Halting his thoughts, a large chunk of the toilet paper fell to the ground with a plop, as it was now too bloody to remain attached to the other sheets. Kiku decided he would go out, skip the convince store trip, and head instead to a clinic, as he mused he'd probably need to get stitches at this point. Maybe the doctors wouldn't ask any questions.

Twenty minutes later Kiku was sitting alone in a perfectly white room, minus the trail of blood droplets from the door to his seat on an examination bed, kicking his feet. He was starting to get a little light headed, as he'd lost a lot of blood in the last half hour. The man closed his eyes, a way of calming himself, and listened to the sound of his own breathing, till a certain thought resurfaced in his mind.

 _"See, you pathetic little shit? This is what you get."_

It sounded like Kiku in his brain, but he couldn't recall actually thinking the thought. His thoughts were kind of jumbled up to begin with, and he had had this odd swelling feeling all over his body, along with being in hysterics, but most his thoughts were still active. _Get up, grab the knife, stop crying, you look so pathetic right now, stab yourself, God that hurt_...it was all cohesive at the time. The only one that stood out was that bullying, well, self-deprecating he'd supposed, thought about what he deserved. Why was that one so-

The door opened. In the frame stood an angel in his apparent, early twenties, as most angles were, with a short stature, gender-neutral build (unless he was shirtless, revealing a flat chest and nicely toned biceps), and a black ponytail swept to one side. He wore a white lab coat, carried a clipboard, and was sporting a smirk.

"So then," Yao, Kiku's older something or other (arguably cousin, arguably brother, arguably father) commented, "I take it you're going to be late to the family dinner." Yao was an herbs specialist at the Northern Sky Clinic and Hospital, as Kiku had conveniently mixed up with his _prior_ occupation as a prep-nurse at the West-Bank Cloud Capital Hospital when he was leaving. Kiku mentally face-palmed at the revelation. Of course, naturally, the forces would just so make it that Yao was given Kiku's medical sheet and asked to handle him. Anything else would be too easy.

"Yao-san, can you please just-"

"What happened?"

Kiku had yet to prepare an answer to that question. His blank stare was not very helpful in calming his brother's concern. Yao eyed the blood on the floor, then Kiku's hand covered in blood as it was squeezing his other hand, and then became more than willing to hop to work.

"I was preparing sushi for lunch and my hand slipped."

"Well, this is quite the slip," the elder of the two commented tossing his clipboard down on a counter and shuffling through supplies, "I can't imagine a scenario in which cutting a sushi roll would result in impaling yourself."

"Yet, there it is in front of you," Kiku remarked with a light smile. Maybe Yao would just let it go. Maybe Yao would just move on. Maybe Yao would jus-

"Tell me the truth, Kiku."

Dangit.

"That is the truth."

"I know you're lying. That doesn't make any sense as an explanation." He poured a substance onto a cotton ball at his counter before turning back to Kiku and approaching him with it. Yao held out his hand, where Kiku placed his still-bleeding one, and quickly withdrew it once the cotton touched the hole in his skin.

"Or course it's going to sting, Kiku. I need you to deal with it-aru." Oh great, now he was 'aru'ing. The elder only ever did that when he was upset, drunk, or overjoyed, and considering there was plenty or reason to doubt the cause of the "aru" was the latter, this was not a good sign. The younger of the two replaced his hand and hissed at the touch again of the cotton, but quickly grew accustomed to the feeling.

"I see you have a new halo." Kiku was commenting on the glowing ring of gold floating above his brother's head. Only the most honorary angels of all received halos: the Angels of Angels, leaders in the class of the Angels of Logic, elder angels like Yao (and Kiku in another 300 or so years!), and angels with extraordinary accomplishments benefiting the angelic community. Yao's old halo was a preliminary model, that one being cheaper than the current and glowing white much more dimly. A golden halo as Yao's was one to be proud of, and clearly the other knew this, as he beamed at the mention of his latest treasure.

"Yes, it was awarded to me by Aldarik! He had it custom banded this time to match the size of my head. I don't know what I can get him as a return gift for such a...no. No. No, no, no. Nice try. Kiku, stop trying to distract me - aru! Your hand! What happened?" Kiku sighed. Yao removed the cotton and returned to his table to grab a cloth to wipe away excess blood. "Kiku, you're going to need stiches on both sides of your hand, and I can't do that to you without ensuring you won't hurt yourself like that again -aru. So what happened? Please." There was a pitiful look in the older's eyes as he tried to guilt Kiku into telling him. It was working, but not well enough. Yao would never, ever, in a million years stop worrying if Kiku told him he'd done this to himself on purpose, so, desperate times call for desperate measures.

"I...was trying...," he blushed at what he was about to confess, an _almost_ true story of a time he'd _almost_ stabbed himself, "I was trying to kill a cockroach by jabbing it, and missed." It was a well-kept secret from everyone but Kiku's family, who'd seen him when he was young and developing this fear, but the Japanese man, now over two thousand years old, was deathly horrified of cockroaches. In fact, at this point, it could be described as a phobia, katsaridaphobia to be specific. The sight of the disgusting creatures genuinely made him sick, and go so far as gagging as their repulsive little legs and antenna moved around their grotesquely shiny bodies. It bothered Kiku how in water, they didn't die. When smashed, they didn't die. In radioactive conditions, they didn't die! The only thing that seemed to be able to kill the little Satans was an expensive spray that made them writhe and squirm in hideousness until their last moment. Then the cockroach-carcasses had to be removed of, which was a challenge in and of its own, because again, he gagged at the sight of them. In his experience with cockroaches Kiku had done some rather crazy things, and once, when his siblings decided to prank him with cockroaches, he'd reacted so badly (details he didn't care to remind himself of, but the point was, he ended up sopping wet, China's living room was destroyed, and someone called the police on a noise complaint) that even Li was genuinely sorry they'd tried. Stabbing himself in the hand while dealing with one of these creatures would not be too surprising.

Yao sighed. "I see-aru. Kiku-"

"Please don't lecture me. I know." And now Yao laughed remembering the last time they'd had this conversation. He tossed the bloodied cloth into the trash can before making his way back to the door and calling for a nurse. They discussed quietly, then the nurse scurried off.

"Alright, Kiku, we're going to do conscious sedation with a sedi and anesthetic, use stitches, maybe staples or Ethicon Dermabond, and you should be good to go in about an hour!" The Japanese man nodded, pretending he knew what any of those medical terms meant. The nurse returned with a doctor as well, some bottles, and a small box. Yao and the nurse went to work with the bottles and box while the doctor silently studied Kiku's hand. Mr. Doctor told Yao staples would work best before scuffling out with another nurse who'd come to get him. Yao turned around, and his helper nurse did too, each with a loaded needle.

"Same time or one by one?" Yao asked.

"Same time." Thus, on the count of three the two were jabbed into his skin, one in his palm and the other into his arm. They were much less painful than the knife was.

"Now, Kiku, just stay here and marinate."

* * *

"There's some kind of disturbance."

"What is it?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but its weakening the boundary."

"Good," the other man commented, patting the first on the back. He was shrugged off but acted as if he hadn't noticed, "Go for it then!"

* * *

Unfortunately, the Japanese man found he couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He couldn't do much of anything but watch as nurses fussed over his hand and whatever they were doing to it. The drugs were powerful. Not only could he not move, but he was lost in a haze of confusion, having forgotten entirely why he was there or what was going on. He looked intensely at his brother's head of black and hair and waited for the other to look back up, but Yao was too focused on his delicate work.

 _Yao-san won't look at me. Why won't Yao-san look at me? Did I do something wrong? He can't be mad at me we have a dinner later and it needs to remain cordial and friendly because Mei-chan will be there and I don't want to fight in front of her. Everyone will gang up on me if we start to fight and I can't take it if we do. We all fight so much we used to be happy. Yao-san please look at me I won't hurt you again. There was that one huge fight that you and I got into and I said some things that I know hurt your feelings. My hand hurts Yao-san stop touching it you're making it hurt worse it really stings! I didn't want to hurt you and I didn't mean to cut your back that really was an accident but you're still mad at me. Yong Soo-san is still mad at me too for those couple of months I wasn't the kindest to him but he wasn't doing me any favors either. I wish you two wouldn't be mad at me. I wish you would let it go like I asked you to. But you won't. And now you won't look at me you just look at my hand and this is my punishment for never saying I was sorry. Not that I am sorry. I'm not I did what I had to do to take care of myself and grow up and I didn't want to hurt you all but you didn't want to cooperate so what was I supposed to do? So fine don't look at me Yao-san. I accept my punishment._

The world Kiku was seeing faded into blackness. His eyes were open and blinking, but he couldn't see a thing. The drugs drew him back, down, way down deep. He was hot as he fell, backwards, in the dark, endlessly downwards. His body felt full, stuffed to the brim with pressure, and then it was empty and right all over again as he fell. It got hotter and hotter, he broke into a sweat, and all at once the darkness faded back into light. A dim light. Kiku was sitting in a scarcely lit room lined with decaying and rotting wooden bookshelves. On each shelf was a plethora of stained, dusty, falling-apart books that were clearly worn from consistent use or neglecting. There was a rotted wooden table near him looking as if it would fall apart if one more sheet of paper or book was placed on it. In general, the dark room was in disarray and the air conditioning had clearly been neglected as it was very hot. Or perhaps Kiku was just hot, so he'd wondered, from the effects of the sedative. He was beginning not to like whatever lucid dream he was trapped in; a fear bubbled in his stomach as shadows of beings that weren't in the room started to bounce off the walls. Kiku's head followed them for a while before he realized he could move again. He stood from the chair, and then decided to sit back down. Something was off about this place, something was scaring him. So the man just sat still and waited.

 _Is this part of my punishment too Yao-san? You're scaring me now? I don't like this take me back to the room you were in. It's fine if you don't look at me just take me back Yao-san. I'm so hot won't you turn on the fan or give me some ice? Yao-san please don't be mad at me. Do you remember that one time you got mad at me when I was little? It was just like this I hurt myself catching my sleeve on a tree branch and decided not to tell you. I lost a lot of blood but thought the problem would go away and I fainted and you were so worried then. You patched me up and then you yelled at me for not telling you and your eyebrows wrinkled the skin of your forehead and I was scared because you were so upset and I had never seen you so upset and my arm hurt and you were supposed to sing to me to make it better like you always did but you didn't and you just yelled and then I cried. Then you stopped yelling and got this look on your face and I just cried and cried and you carried me to bed and you never sang to me like I wanted you to but I guess I never asked you to but you always did so please Yao-san sing to me. Look at me. My hand still hurts. I want to come back._

His body pulsated, going from full to empty to how it was supposed to feel and back to full. His vision swayed color, black and white, black only, white only, the book room, the medical room. Where was he? What was happening? He closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and begged for sleep to escape from this terror.

* * *

Kiku opened his eyes and processed three things immediately. One, he was back in the clinic room; two, he was laying down, and Yao was leaning over him; three, his head and left hand were throbbing.

"Kiku! You're awake! I'm not sure what went wrong, but, you went unconscious during the procedure."

"I know," the man replied, his voice a little horse, "I had a frightening dream."

"Yes, those are common with an overdose, which is what I'm assuming caused you to fall out. That, or, have you by any chance taken a blocker of some kind recently?"

"Blocker?" His stomach dropped.

"Yes. A medication to block an angelic principal. Do you know of any?"

"Etttooo...No. If I have taken any I wasn't aware of it."

"Hmp," Yao leaned back in his seat at Kiku's side huffing, "must've been the other nurse then. She usually doesn't mess up though. I wonder why-"

"When can I go home, Yao-san?" He hastily changed the subject, as something told him his brother finding out about his illegally distributed medication was not going to go over well.

"As soon as you feel up to it. I presume you have a headache right now, so if you want to wait here for it to subside, be my guest." Kiku tried, despite the offer, to sit up. Key word: tried. Once his head was two centimeters off the examination bench, he lowered himself back down, very slowly, and ceased motion.

"Arigato. I think I will rest." He closed his eyes and hoped his dream would not again result in being in that creepy room of books.

* * *

It was several hours after Kiku had left the clinic, now evening with the sun already set in the clouds and working on setting for the Earth. Kiku was back in his house, standing in front of a mirror, simply examining his reflection. He was wearing a button-up white shirt, red blazer, light-blue jeans, white vans, a similarly colored scarf, and was pondering an off-white hat to help with the slightly chill weather. His skin was a little drained of color, not that he wasn't already pale, the man just appeared to be sickly now. His hair was in an annoying bit of disarray as he found combing it with one hand (his left was till throbbing) to be more difficult than he'd imagined. What perhaps concerned him the most was that his wings were graying. He'd opened them out to ruffle the feathers, figuring it'd be good for him to fly to his brother's for dinner as he hadn't used his ability in a while. Kiku was, however, very pleased he'd caught himself in the mirror before he decided to do this and noticed his wings graying. It must be the blood loss, the same issue causing his skin to have a slight and odd tinge of green. About a third of the once pristine white feathers on his outstretched wings were now a dark gray, and the majority of the rest were a lighter tint. Only about 15 feathers retained their original, angelic white. Kiku sighed, retracted his ugly wings, and opened up the pill bottle in front of him. He was not going to forget his dosages anymore. Considering how he was becoming more demonic, it felt too dangerous to forget them. He slipped one pill into his mouth and with his fingers pressed to his lips he stared. It reminded him of when he was small.

 _"Where does it hurt, Kiku?"_

 _"It doesn't."_

 _"Yes it does - aru! Just tell me where so I can help." The younger Asian finally submitted and pointed to his right calf. It was scratched up from the fall he'd taken and was not very fun to walk on. Yao picked the boy up and carried him inside from his grand garden. Kiku was set down on a counter top as his elder brother fumbled around the kitchen for gauze. A little girl with hair to her waste and one out of place curl, Kiku's younger sister Mei, was leaning in through the door frame, concern written all over her face. Kiku offered her a light smile and hoped she would go away; he didn't want her to worry and would play with her later to make her happy again. Yao wrapped up his brother's leg before stooping down on one knee. He kissed the now white-wrapped calf._

 _"What was that for?" Kiku questioned._

 _"So it doesn't hurt as much anymore." Kiku decided that Yao was an effective wound-kisser, as it in-fact did not hurt as much anymore._

 _"It also hurts here." The boy was pressing two fingers to his busted lip. Yao reacted appropriately, cleaning odd the cut, applying an ointment, and smiling once completed._

 _"Aren't you going to kiss it?" His treatment did not feel complete without the kiss for no pain. Yao raised an eyebrow at him in consideration before commenting:_

 _"No, I cannot kiss you there," he kissed Kiku on the forehead, and upon seeing the boy's disappointment, went for a compromise, "I will, however, sing to you. It might help." So then Yao leaned away, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. The first note of his song, sung in the man's native language, immediately captured Kiku, disintegrating his sadness and distracting him entirely from his wounds. He interrupted._

 _"Yao-san, your voice is very pretty like that." The older man chuckled, before continuing his tune, Kiku, and Mei who was still in the doorway swaying with it._

For whatever reason, adult Kiku, upon recalling all of this, had the desire to hear someone in particular sing to him.

 _No Kiku_ , he cooed to himself, shaking his head and gulping water, _stop being immature. Those days are long gone_. He swallowed one last time, the pill now slipping away with the water, and burning his chest as usual. When the burn subsided, he pocketed two more pills, replaced the bottle, and forced himself to stop trying to remember the lyrics to the one song Yao used to sing him that he absolutely adored. It was in Japanese instead of the usual Chinese or English, and resonated beautifully on Yao's buttery voice. Now Kiku slapped himself. If this family dinner was going to be even anything like the rest of the recent ones, he was not going to be held, he was not going to be loved, and he was not going to be sung to. He took off out the door and headed west in his brother's house's direction. _Stop being unreasonable,_ he demanded of himself, briskly walking down the sidewalk. _You have not thought about things like that, or about Yao-san like that, like your older brother, for a long time. Things aren't just going to turn back because you suddenly want them to. Think logically, Kiku._

As he walked on, it continually felt odd to him how much he just wanted to hear Yao sing. To hear his brother tell him he loved him. To get through this dinner without arguing. He actually let his heart become set on it, and could hear the thing beating loudly in his ears from nervousness as he postured his fist to knock. _Please let this go well._ The door swung open.

* * *

 **Sunny: Review, Review, Review! I always like to know how I'm doing. _If you don't review I'm sending Kiku back to the scary book room!_**

 **Kiku: Why do I get the feeling you're going to send me back there regardless?**

 **Sunny: SHHHHHhhhh! No one asked for your back-sass.**

This chapter was originally going to contain the entire dinner party, but as usual, I had too much to do in one chapter and it got long. This one isn't THAT long, but it's at an okay stopping point. Now, let me explain some things.

1\. During Kiku's drug induced thoughts, I went kind of Stream-of-consciousness with my writing. There's purposely no commas, and I use those a lot, so it added to the quick flow. I also made Kiku think kind of childishly. Blame The Sound and the Fury, as I'm being forced to read that for class, and its influencing me.

2\. There's some things you're meant to be confused about so just relax if anything got you.

3\. I realized about half way through this I was not using honorifics, so if Kiku calls anyone a name without one, that's just an error and I'm sorry y'all.

4\. I, at some point, want to write a 1-off about that prank Li and Im Yong Soo pulled on Kiku. Anyone want to see it?

5\. Now, the big thing with Japan and the rest of Asia is their kinship that was broken off when Japan decided to go empirical and be mean to everyone. Now, as an angel this doesn't really make sense, so I've chalked it down to a series of fights the brothers had when Kiku wanted to move out of Yao's home. Somehow, Kiku accidentally gave Yao that scar on his back, Yao taking it as something he'd done on purpose. It will all be explained in the next chapter, I just don't want anyone to blow up on me now. Remember, they're angels, not nations. I'll try to keep their history similar in feeling, but as for the idea, I can't.

6\. This got really Asian family on me (if you know me, you know I can't resist) and that wasn't at all my intention. There is, however, a reason for it. I'm not just throwing in fluff for my own enjoyment (I mean, that's not ENTIRELY what's happening) so, to all my Anti-Asian Family or not so much in love with it as I am readers, please bear with me. It'll end soon.


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, so, would you believe this chapter took me four re-writes? I mean, there's some copy pasting going on hardcore, but, it s hard to write when you don t know what you re doing. Hopefully, for the next chapter I ll have a better plan. Because I had so little a plan, I had to give away much more in this chapter than I d wanted to for it to be something worth reading, but there are still plenty of secrets, so I feel okay about it. Since there s a lot, here s all the (possible) human names used (I say possible because all those re-writes can confuse a girl and I don't really remember who made the cut for this chapter and who didn't).

 **HUMAN NAMES KEY**  
China - Yao Wang  
Japan - Kiku Honda  
Hong Kong - Li-Xiao Chen  
Korea - Yong Soo Im  
Taiwan - Mei  
Vietnam - Lien  
Macau - Chao  
Thialand - Kasem  
England - Arthur Kirkland  
France - Francis Bonnefoy

* * *

Francis, one of the many banes of Mr. Kirkland's existence, was on his knees on Arthur's counters - freshly polished counters - as he shuffled through the top shelves of Arthur's cabinets. He seemed to finally find what he had been looking for, all the different boxes of all the different kinds of tea. He had to make the best flavor for himself, but considering his choices which were eight different brands of earl gray, five of English breakfast (as if the nationality of the breakfast made it taste different), an herbal detox tea that smelled like death itself, and several with descriptions in Chinese, it would be hard to find one suitable. However, on the top shelf inside of an orange tin was an assortment of fruity flavored teas. He decided he would be drinking the peach with raspberry, and he had a feeling he already knew what Arthur wanted.

The English man was sitting at his kitchen table, fidgeting. He knew all the facts: Francis had come by early in the morning, gone a step past inviting himself in and snuck in through an unlocked window, he was likely spreading leg hair and French diseases all over the place, and also just the simple fact that it was Francis. Given that he knew all of this, the French man figured it to be a sign that Arthur hadn't cursed at him yet, not even once.

A good sign? A bad sign? He wasn't entirely sure, but it was a sign.

A kettle and half later, Arthur was placing his saucer on top of his cup to create a steam-trap for better flavor. Francis was shamelessly adding lump after lump after tea-authenticity-destroying lump of sugar. Three lumps was always the cap; if you didn't like your tea after three lumps you needed a lighter soak of the teabag or simply a different kind, it was basically a law in this house. Instead of watching Francis ruin his tea, Arthur decided to get up and grab the milk and a bagel for himself. Upon realizing he had no cream cheese, Arthur muttered a quiet "fiddlesticks" to himself before closing the fridge. The bagel he would eat cold and plain, and the milk was for the tea, which he now removed the saucer from. Francis scoffed at him.

"Your kitchen is in a terrible state of disarray Anglais! You should be happy I've decided to reorganize it a bit." Arthur opened his mouth to rebut Francis, but just as quickly shut it. His head was starting to really hurt, probably from hitting it on that blasted dresser when he fell out of bed, and what would be the point in getting angry in his state? Really? All he would do was yell till he was blue in the face, make the migraine worse, affect Francis in no way, and then resign himself to sit down in a huff as the French pest continued to destroy his tea collection pointlessly. He may as well skip it all, sit down now, and accept his fate.

"Why don't you let me cook you a real meal instead of eating soggy carbs for breakfast?" Francis remarked in response to his companion's silence with a flip of the long and (aggravatingly) beautiful hair.

"If you want food so badly I would cook you something!"

Bonnefoy took one of his "friend's" hands into both his own, tears pricking his bright, blue eyes already.

"I don't want to die, Anglais, just eat a meal! Be merciful!"

"Francis, don't be silly!" Arthur snapped his hand away, "my cooking wouldn't hurt you _unless I wanted it to._ " Francis did not appreciate the threatening tone of those words as Arthur tried to force himself to smile, but had clear anger seeping through the cracks of his expression. The elder watched the other grab sugar cubes from the table and fiddle with them in his hands in irritation. He plopped the two of them into his drink and stirred, still visibly pissed.

"Did I strike a nerve, Arthur?"

"No."

"You didn't even notice you used two sugars instead of your usual one." To this, the Englishman smiled in such a harsh way that Francis suddenly had nothing to say. This really was just not Arthur's day, and now he had to childishly stomp himself out of the room to remain even remotely calm, tea cup in one hand, the other in a shaking fist. He sipped his tea again once safely out of the kitchen, and felt it burn as it trickled down his chest into his stomach.

The doorbell rang.

"WHAT OTHER NUTTER HAS LOST THEIR MIND AND COME BY THIS BLOODY, SODDEN EARLY NOWWWWwww…. oh. Hello, Kiku."

"My apologies, Arthur-san," he bowed, "I just simply wished to speak to you about the events of last night. Is this a bad time?" he asked it as Francis rounded the corner and stood behind Arthur in the doorway. He leaned on the wall, placed a hand on the small of the other blond's back, smiled smugly, and enjoyed the sexual implications that the both of them in boxers and briefs this early in the morning cemented into Kiku's head. Arthur remained oblivious.

"No, of course not. Tosser, here, was just tossing himself out." Arthur felt quite clever as he pushed the scarcely dressed man out his door (Kiku barely dodging what would have been very unfortunate human contact, and Francis not at all minding his state of undress).

"I'll be back tonight, Arthur."

"No you will not." Francis winked. Arthur wondered why his companion was suddenly red in the face, but stepped to the side, allowing Kiku entry regardless. The man came in, removed his shoes, and followed his host to the kitchen. Tea was served (because Arthur was English. What kind of host would he be if he didn't offer everyone within a five-meter radius of his front door tea?), and their quiet was quickly destroyed by inquiry.

"So then, Kiku, what happened?"

"I apologize for coming to burden you with something like this again on your day off."

"Oh, nonsense, I don't mind. Tell me what's happened. Does it have anything to do with your hand?" Kiku paused his drinking to look at the blue welt forming on the back of his left palm.

"In part. You see, last night I went to dinner with Yao-san and his family, and things did not go over very smoothly. Allow me to explain."

* * *

It was 7:13 p.m., and time did not seem to be moving fast enough. _I took it two hours ago. At…5:30 I think, so actually that's not even two hours ago but an hour and a half ago that I took the pill._ Kiku was sitting at the end of his elder brother's dining room table, across from this brother, holding his chopsticks in one hand, a cup of water in the other, and making zero moves to eat or drink. _No, no, maybe it was yesterday that I took it, or the day before, or maybe I'm remembering 5:30 a.m.. Was I even up that early today? I'm sure I took the pill thought! I wouldn't forget this kind of thing, I took it at 5:30, for sure, and I know I'm not supposed to re-dose until four hours has passed, and I'm not even half way to the four-hour mark. So, why?_

He grabbed the collar of his kimono, while still holding the chop sticks, and began flapping it against the wind, creating some air to cool himself down. Suddenly remembering his other hand held water, he raised it to his lips and sipped. It needed ice. _Why is it so hot? This can't be natural; I must be at least running a fever, and on top of that, I'm not even sweating. If I took the pill at the right time, how can this be possible?_ He started to have trouble breathing, his head swaying to the left. When he held the water near his mouth, he could actually feel the heat radiating off his body. _Nothing this odd has ever happened before witho-_

A light tap was placed on his wrist, and the Japanese man looked to the left to find his little sister, Mei, offering a concerned expression. Kiku raised an eyebrow at her, and she gestured with her head across the table, which caused the eyebrow to raise higher.

"Yao asked you to pass him the beef," she explained. The beef, yes. It was in front of Kiku, who had completely forgotten by that point he was even at a dinner. The man hastily lifted the bowl and offered it to his brother, ignoring the glare Li was giving him. _How many times had he asked?_

"Here you are, Yao-san. My apologizes."

"It's alrigh-"

"No, it's not alright," Li stated, not at all calming his glare, but still verbally coming across as disinterested, "why are you being so petty?"

"I'm…," just as Kiku started trying to say something, the room swayed before his eyes. "I'm…I'm…what?"

"Petty. Shall I spell it out?"

"Li." It was Chao who'd cut in, nudging his favorite brother in the bicep. In the hand he'd used for the nudging was a salad, which Kiku wanted _. It will probably be cool to eat compared to this rice and chicken I got._ The room continued swaying, and now he was fanning himself with has hand, and panting. _How am I not sweating? Is no one else hot? Maybe this isn't caused by the pill; I mean, it's never done anything like this before. Oh, Li-san is talking._

"You know, Kiku," Li began, "I'm pretty sure people from your place call their brothers 'nii-san' or 'onii-san' or something, and not by name."

 _"…what does that have to do with anything?"_

"It has to do with the fact that you're sitting there ignoring someone speaking to you, simply because he calls you his brother."

 _Oh, did I say that aloud?_ "I did not hear Yao-san call to me, Li-san." _Christ. I need an ice pack. Now._

"Kiku, are you alright?" Mei asked, rubbing the hand that was still on his wrist.

"Yes, he is. Don't go pitying him, Mei," Li cut, turning his attention back to Kiku, "you just didn't hear him four times? Really?"

Kiku didn't hear either one of these questions directed towards him, he was more so focused on the fact that he was sure he was being cooked alive. The man's vision had blurred, and the person-ish-shaped lumps of beige and black that surrounded were moving slightly. Each movement made a click, clack, or crash of the fragile plate meeting a utensil boom in his head. The man flinched with each tone. He was sure he had heard voices coming from these blobs, but that the voices were actually audible tones of words was lost on him. Fanning his face with his dainty hand was doing nothing, so, since he was dying of hyperthermia, he went with the next most logical option of dumping the food off his plate and fanning himself with that.

"Ai-ya! Don't waste your food like that!"

"Kiku!"

"What?!" Seven pairs of eyes stared in awe as the otherwise calm, collected, and nearly silent angel before them raised his voice in their direction. The sounds around the table silenced themselves, and it was a good thing because all those plates, glasses, and chop sticks clinking around were really giving the demonic angel a migraine. He raised his hand, the one without a plate in it, to his face and rubbed it on the skin. His hand was hot as well, and not cooling the fire at all. Not to mention that but now his temples were throbbing in pain with that headache. Why was everyone trying to converse with him _now_? Now that he was suffering like this?

"Hey, now, don-"

Kiku cut off his brother, Yong Soo, with, "Oh my God, why are you talking?". It wasn't at all what he'd meant to say, rather, it was what he thought. The thought that he normally would have the time to mull over and then reject, but that he failed to reject today. It was just so hot; did he really have time to moderate every single one of his thoughts? He stood, without explaining himself, and took to the bathroom. It was no cooler in that room than in the dining room.

 _I must not have taken the pill, that's the only explanation. I can't believe I actually said that to Yong Soo-san. I'll just take a pill, just one more. I'm sure it will be fine. I don't even think you can overdose on these things…right? Just one…_ He felt the familiar burn of (thankfully cold) water sliding down his throat with the pill intertwined. When he returned to the kitchen, still hot as the surface of the sun and walking very slowly to avoid aggravating the persistent throbbing of his head, Yao had left the room to get a broom for the purpose of cleaning the food Kiku had so politely tossed to the floor, and Li decided that that was his time to strike.

"What?" Li asked, "nothing to say?"

Kiku bit the inside of his lower lip before answering to allow the remark he'd originally thought up to settle. Hot or not, he was still an angel and still had to have his limits. He responded a bit more calmly. "No, Li-san. Not really." Li sniggered.

"So you're doing it to me too?"

Kiku had to pause again, and close his eyes this time while taking deep breaths. His patience was running very, very thin already. This was getting dangerous, but he now had the effects of the blocker holding him back. A little. "Doing what?"

"Not referring to your brother, as a brother." There was a certain sharpness to his words that irritated Kiku. His anger flared, reaching from somewhere in his stomach to his temples, pulsating and throbbing. He waited for the beast to see its way back down before opening his eyes again and replying.

"We are not brothers, Li-san."

"And you and Yao are?!"

The comment seemed random, and unprovoked, but of course Li was doing this. He always does this. He liked to act like he was so innocent, as if he hadn't done his fair share of heartbreaking things to Yao, and instead attack. Viciously jab at Kiku with a simple remark, a point, a look. Something small but meant to sting and burn and twist his stomach in guilt, as if he wasn't already carrying guilt on his own. As if he didn't already know what all he'd done, but worst of all, as if he was the only one to blame for it all! He picked up a book off the table, a pocket dictionary, and fanned through the pages, the wind of it cooling his skin slightly and calming him. He wasn't going to do this today. They were supposed to be cordial, they were supposed to get along, so surely if Kiku just stopped, Li would too. He had to.

"We are not." Now it was Li's turn to pause. He shook his head, shrouding off several layers of disbelief before scoffing.

"Of course you're not," he rebutted with quite a lot of malice in his tone, "brothers don't treat each other like that."

"Like what?" Kiku had responded that time without thinking, and it came out a little loud, and snappy. Kiku fanned through the dictionary more rapidly now, bidding the wind from it blowing on his face to calm him. It was not doing a very good job. _Li-san, you know you can feel how HOT IT IS IN HERE! Why are you doing this to me right now?_ No longer able to stand it, the Japanese man leaned his head over onto the table and rolled it on the wood. His body was starting to feel odd, sort of…like it was swelling.

Li was not actually looking at Kiku was he posed the question 'like what?', but Yong Soo, who had been quietly standing in the corner with his back pressed against a wall, was. He had never before seen a look like that in his brother's eyes; a daring look, as if to say 'continue, Li Xiao, please, I promise you'll regret it'. A heat, an anger, a glare of hatred. He had never seen those eyebrows downturn like that and those lips frown like that.

"Like angel garbage that deserves to be abandoned, taken advantage of, betrayed. Should I go on? I can hardly think of something bad you _haven't_ done to him." The look on Kiku's face grew more intense, as he stared straight forward at Yao's empty chair, avoiding eye-contact with Li. He spent a long time staring, and biting on the inside of his mouth, trying to find the right words. He couldn't do this! He couldn't let himself get that angry! Not here, not now! His arms were visibly swelling now, and his head was _really_ throbbing.

"Li-san, I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Oh?" Li asked with a sarcastic confusion. He honestly couldn't care less about what Kiku _wanted_ the topic of their conversation to be. He was not going to just dust this under the rug simply because his older brother wanted him to. He did not deserve the luxury of getting to forget everything he'd done. "Well that's too bad."

"Li-san…" His body felt too full, like his skin would rip apart any second and be consumed by flame. It was too much to take on.

"Why are you even here?"

"Excuse me?" Another mistake lead to another rude remark without thinking. He couldn't focus on control; he had to keep himself from snapping.

"I don't understand why Yao keeps inviting you to these things," the younger said. "It's like he wants you to tear into him again. All those years that you stayed away from us, honestly, that was a nice time."

Kiku had forgotten all of his life: it slipped his mind that he was at his brother's house, or that he'd just initiated a fight with Li-san, or that a small group of his siblings were in the room, or that the lights were on, or of what he was wearing, or what time it was, or that nonsense about pills, or how he was supposed to be functioning.

Everything in the five foot, five-inch, petit man's body burned and pulsated and writhed with pain. He was going to explode; he was sure of it. He had been assaulted by burning coals, all thrown onto his skin and lighting it aflame indefinitely. It seemed his skin would burn off, but as he convulsed and twisted on the ground, each touch of friction to the surface of him made the burning hotter if such a thing were possible. Sweat had drenched his clothes, finally so, and was the coldest thing on him, offering slight, momentary blasts of relief as the tiniest droplet would roll someplace and put out the flame for just a fraction of a second. Only for it to just as soon burn again, brighter.

His body didn't seem to understand that it could not escape the pain that was inside him. It was swishing into and tearing apart his veins, squeezing his lungs till he could barely wheeze, ripping every last organ to shreds. Some force of hot air moved and pushed against the internal walls of his body, trying to force itself out. The darkness of his eyelids shut tightly over his eyes did nothing to soothe his head, which hurt the most of all.

He could feel each crevice of his brain as it swelled and pushed and forced the skull to burst. It expanded, and grew, pressing harder and harder on the bone, and it was too much. He had resorted to clawing at his temples and ears, trying to open his head himself and relive some of the pressure. His nails dug so deep it began to bleed, and a "no" was all he could get out of his voice that was being forced back and crushed inside his throat.

Not until Yong Soo and Lien stepped in to aid Mei in lifting Kiku was he actually raised into a half-standing position. For just a second, he opened his eyes, and caught his reflection in the glass of a window, and he immediately panicked and shut them. He was sure, he had seen… color in…

…but he couldn't properly think about that as skull seemed to crack and he clenched his teeth in misery.

"It's his hand! The stitches have opened!" Chao concluded, as the team of four hoisted the man onto the nearest couch.

"No, that's not it," Lien claimed. Kiku's stitches had come undone, yes, and the blood from his hand was running down his clawing fingers and mixing with the blood from his face. The woman could feel brother's skin heating up, could see him hurting himself to just try to make it all stop, could see his endless struggle. There was more to it all than an injured hand. "Tie him down before he really kills himself! Chao, get me a towel, Mei…"

Lien continued barking orders, but the rest of them went unheard, as for the second time that night, Yong Soo was rendered useless as he stood in a corner, and watched in shock, while his brother raised his voice.

This time, to the level of a scream, in complete and utter anguish.

* * *

Arthur was on the edge of his seat, quite literally, as his angel-companion paused his story. He had blushed and squirmed in his seat slightly as he told it, a fair bit ashamed at some of his explanations for his actions. The English man had a sneaking suspicion that some of the family drama with all that talk about brothers had something to do with him and his involvement in caring for, or really rather raising, Li, who he called Leon. Kiku hadn't told him everything, there were some intricate details of his heart and feelings that he liked to keep shielded from the world, but from what of the night and his thoughts he had shared, Arthur felt he could semi-understand the big picture.

"Then what?"

"I'm not entirely sure, Arthur-san. You see, after that, I was in a dream…I think."

"You think?"

"I cannot be entirely sure, it would only make sense as a dream, but it would be a repeat dream if that were the case. That, and, it just seemed so real."

"What happened in this dream," the man asked, scooting back into his chair properly and glancing at his empty tea cup. He wanted another cup, but didn't want to force a pause in the story.

"Well, you were there."

Yes, the tea could wait.

* * *

"Hey, hey?!" Arthur was waiving a hand in front of Kiku's face staring at him with concern. The pain in the sorter man's body had vanished, along with the burning sensation on his skin. He was in picture perfect health, minus a blurriness of his vision, and with Arthur, and-

He was back in that room. Before looking at the room properly he recognized the feeling of that specific chill coursing up and down his spine, and of all the blood in his veins ceasing to move for just a moment. He knew those books, that desk, this same tattered chair he'd woken up in for just a brief moment when his surgery went awry.

"Hey, are you alright there?"

"Y-yes." Kiku responded. The lighting in this room casted a shade of red over everything, making the books look burgundy and deep pink, the hard wood have a red, blood-like stain, and even giving Kiku's own skin a twinge of pink. "What happened? How did I get here?"

"Oh, I guess it just didn't work. Sorry, lad." Arthur leaned away from Kiku's chair and walked over to the falling-apart table. He began to shuffle through the books and papers on it, and with each jostle of white, Kiku winced, nervous it would all crumble at the man's feet.

"Guess what did not work?"

"The spell," Arthur stated, nonchalantly. As the blur of his eyes finally settled, Kiku got a better look at his friend. He appeared to have dust or dirt under his eyes and was standing directly below one of the room's few, red light fixtures. It made all of him look to be a bit the wrong shade. "I'll just try a new one."

 _A new spell? A new spell for what? A new blocker pill? When did I leave Yao-san's house and how did I get here?_ "Uhm, I-"

"Oh jolly good!" Arthur enthused, jumping from the table with a book open in hand. He smiled at Kiku and sprinted for the door shouting, "I think this will work, but let me ask my people, dear! Back soon!"

* * *

"Well, yes," the English man insisted while standing to finally grab that second cup of tea, "I can assure you that was a dream."

"You ended up not coming back soon at all. I was left in that room for I don't know how long, but very. Just as they did last time, the shadows on the walls began to dance and it just felt very off-putting."

"Following this?"

"I awoke in Yao-san's house in my old room."

"So then it really was a dream?"

"Well, if you say it did not occur then it must have been. I snuck out and came here first thing I could. After all that had happened at dinner, I just did not want to…" _to face them all again._

"I understand."

"You understand what happened? What went wrong with the medication?"

"Oh no, I meant…," Arthur decided that trying to explain that he understood what Kiku was trying to say without him having to say it, was really not important. "Have you had any issues today?"

"No. They're working just as they should. So, what do we do from here?"

"Hmp." The tone was all Arthur could manage, because, for once, he did not have the answer. He had never heard of something like that happening before; a sudden heat and pain of the body like that. It was likely from overdose of the pill that the pain started actually, they were very powerful blockers, but it didn't explain the burning sensations Kiku had described from earlier in the night.

Mr. Kirkland had no earthly or heavenly idea what was going on.

* * *

Mr. Bonnefoy had no earthly or heavenly idea what was going on. He wasn't an idiot, and could sort of piece one and two together. Something was wrong with Kiku, which led to him somehow acquiring a pill of sorts. It may have been a blocker, but he wasn't clear on what it could be blocking, or what the problem was, so that didn't make any sense. The pill had odd side effects.

There was no reason for many things in this situation: no reason for Arthur to kick Francis out so this conversation to occur, no reason for Kiku to confide in Arthur and only Arthur about this, no reason for the side-effects of this pill to be so strong, and no reason for Arthur to appear to be stumped on what to do about it.

Not unless that reason, was that something going on here was illegal. If it was illegal, it was unholy. If it was unholy, it was forbidden. Francis had dipped his toes in the forbidden acts once or twice with a grin and honhonhon all the way, so he wasn't going to lose his mind just because these two were involved. However, from his vantage point of the opened window he'd originally snuck in through, things seemed…dire.

Arthur had not cursed at him all that morning. It was a sign. A good one, a bad one, he was still unsure; but a sign no less.

* * *

There. It's done! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. **Post a review and let me know how you feel about it!** Considering it's my 4th try, I don't care how I feel about it, this is going on the website.

 **I would just like to explain one little thing.** I believe after all their years of military experience and prowess that the nations are VERY strong, both physically and mentally. We can see that Germany, Russia, Prussia, Canada, and America have very CLEAR super-human physical strength. In my head-cannon, China gets this strength as well when he is angry. Continually, I feel they simply regenerate when they die in battle or are injured, so from repeat after repeated death, I believe Japan can be stabbed at this point and not feel anything. I think he has ninja and samurai training along with everything too. I feel Arthur is an amazing ship captain and pirate (who cannot swim [that's why it's such a big deal when a man goes overboard]) who once told his crew to eat him when they ran out of food. I subscribe to many more headcannons based off (loose) history, but basically, all the nations are strong. They wouldn't cry for anything unless it's in their character, like the Italians, and even they can hold their own when they HAVE to (*see Mafia and Hetaoni*). So, I feel that if the nation of Japan was suddenly in a dark, creepy room with moving shadows, he may think it a little creepy, but he wouldn't show or express this fear and would hold his own.

But, these characters are not nations. So, if at any time Kiku or Arthur or Francis or anyone seems just a little too weak, remember what they have been through – nothing. A cushy life of angel-ing. So expect them to react to trauma and fear in more human-esk ways rather than the unstoppable nations we've come to know and love.

 **Another question for reviews, is there any character you'd like to see pop up?** I'll be willing to write someone in if I get strong requests for it (or just one reeeeeally convincing request) so, hit up the review section!

Finally, thank you all for reading! Have a lovely day :)


	6. Chapter 6

It's been over two months since I've updated this story which is not cool and has really actually bummed me out. I've wanted to come write for so long but could never find the time. Well, here I am, and **I'm sorry for the wait.** Angels vs Demons is back on!

Also, guys, I submitted an excerpt from my other story about Prussia, _These Wounds Won't Seem to Heal_ to a literary magazine! It's local so not that big a deal, and they probably accept nearly everyone anyways, but I'm nervous. I really hope I get in! Fingers crossed! But I was feeling shy so I used a pen name. I submitted some artworks too but I think that will get in no issue; it has in past years.

* * *

Solidarity was nice. The Japanese man before himself in the mirror rather enjoyed the isolated state of being. It allowed for a cozy time under a thick blanket protecting him from the chilled air, his meal of choice – perhaps smoked salmon or slender, white slices of sashimi – was set on the bedside table to be enjoyed at his will. He could tuck himself tightly beneath the blanket and breathe steadily. He'd shut his eyes, smile, and think about the many things he would do that day by himself: clean the kitchen, wash his dog, read a "book", draw some doodles for his friend Elizabeth, and enjoy the still silence of his house.

Blacker blackness than that he was looking at seeped in around the corners of his shut eyes. The world was dimming and darkening by the second, and the thick blanket was crushing him beneath the dangerous chill of his frostbitten room. He sat up erect in bed, eyes now open to the lack of danger that was still in some way breathing upon his neck and grazing the hairs on his arms. He glanced choppily around the room – lamp – dresser – mirror – **_POP_** – what was that? The crushing blanket was now pulled up and wrapped tight around the body for protection. It was nothing, the house was quiet, there was no one.

He could hear movement outside; the swoosh of wings and the rolling of tires. There was a distant cry to be cut off by the wind, and a sound of static within the home. Anywhere he wasn't looking was dark, blurred, eerie and dangerous, but he found he couldn't look everywhere at once, and the protecting blanket was no longer protecting but rather too cold and had to be thrown off. He collected himself into a tight, white ball on the bed.

A gasp.

Fear.

But no, it was just the plate of food. Nothing had moved. Nothing but the pit in his stomach which dug deeper down. Solidarity was nice, till it was filled with confusion and stripping him of the safety of companionship. A safety like the lights that were supposed to disintegrate the monsters, or the hands over one's face that stopped the murder in his tracks. The company that would make him talk, laugh, smile, recognize social ques, and think of only that and the light in the airy room rather than the hat.

The hat that had suddenly appeared on Yao's head. It had appeared in the memory of the time he was weak.

Some called Arthur's actions jealousy, others selfishness or self-interest, and a few considered it noble, but regardless of how it seemed, it had happened. First Arthur would take small things – borrow a pot here and a pillow there and simply not return it when asked. Then, just when Yao'd lost trust in him, he turned around and started to give him things: wine, tea, a couch, anything he would ask for. They weren't friends in any way, but they had a sort of understanding.

And then the sabotage came. It wasn't very angelic of him at all, but he got away with it, and in the end that's all that mattered. Arthur had given Yao a tea with a certain, addictive herb in it he wasn't supposed to be ingesting. Was it really an accident as the blonde had claimed? The Angels of Angels were still to this day unsure, but one thing they were sure of was that Yao was down spiraling. Going up and down and in and out of his way to get more of this tea, or rather of this herb, to grind, to eat, to smoke, to inject, to smell, to do anything with – he just had to have it. It was pitiful.

Yao also couldn't help his brother. He wasn't fit to raise anyone, and that's why Arthur stepped up to take care of (as he would say) or steal away (as Yao would claim) Li. He hadn't re-named him Leon so he would forget about his old life, he'd simply had trouble properly pronouncing Li Xiao, and the boy didn't mind. He hadn't fed him his food with his utensils to appropriate him, he just didn't understand Chinese cuisine, and Li was too young to himself. It's not like he didn't know where he came from, he would go to see Yao all the time, but even that was restricted, as rehabilitation for angels is very strict.

In this time of weakness, Yao's missions went unchecked. All the humans he should have been helping, all the families he should have been bringing back together, were failing. Kiku was smart on his feet. He could see that what would have been a shot of love through a son's heart, could instead be a shot of pride through a mother's heart. He could help those people. Maybe it didn't work out perfectly every single time, but if he didn't do it, who would?

Yao swore he could let go of the herbs, but Kiku wasn't sure. He pled for help getting Li back, but Kiku didn't want him to hurt the child. He asked for his arrows and his missions back, but Kiku had people to protect. Yao stood, and followed Kiku to the door, and grabbed his wrist, and he said:

"Wait." But Kiku didn't have time for that.

"Yao-san," and he shook his wrist, the other didn't release him. "Yao-san you have to do this."

"Kiku why? Why are you abandoning me? I haven't used anything in so long – I'm fine! Arthur is exaggerating this; I just need my family back. Don't do this!"

Don't do what? Don't help the humans, and help Yao's little brother, and help Arthur, and help himself, and – wait, no, not himself, help the people he served as an Angel of Pride, that's what he meant – was he just supposed to not help? He couldn't, and he shook his wrist harder now, and Yao fell backwards. He scraped his back on the sharp corner of a splintered wall and there was blood. The doctors at the rehabilitation center could help with that.

Suddenly, Yao was wearing the hat, a hat that fell off when Kiku grabbed him by the ponytail and yanked him from the ground to standing. The man let out a small cry, one that should have shattered Kiku's heart; or rather one that shouldn't have happened in the first place because Kiku would never treat someone like that, but it was the cry he remembered never the less.

"Come on!" he shouted in his brother's face, pulling him towards the door. Yao grabbed his hat in one hand, he tried to fight as well, but was too brittle. They made it outside, and it was dark instead of light, but maybe this all happened at night instead of during the day. Who could tell anymore?

"Stop it! I don't-" but Yao didn't finish that sentence because Kiku threw him into the back of his car, again by the hair, and got in the front, and drove off. That was what Kiku remembered. Every time he tried to drag back this memory, that's what it was. It made darkness crawl in the corners of his room and shadows dart across the walls before he could fully see them.

But where did that hat come from? He'd never once before seen Yao wearing that hat, and himself was so heinous. He acted with no regard for anyone. An angel wasn't supposed to be capable of that.

"Why do I have to fix EVERY LITTLE THING you mess up?!" Kiku cried in this distorted memory from inside the car. He watched his brother crumple in the back seat and felt horrible pleasure at the sight. He smiled.

"I was framed. I don't know why Kirkland is doing this but I didn't-"

"Shut your mouth. Of course you would go and ruin everything in your life the moment I walked away from it. You're supposed to be an elder, to represent me, US, but you're a pathetic disaster." Yao looked about ready to cry and Kiku felt about ready to laugh. "So keep quiet, brother dearest. We're going whether or not you like it."

No! That wasn't right! That wasn't happened and that wasn't how he felt, but it's all he saw! That stupid hat and himself being so heinous! Why?! And that wasn't the only memory out of order. There was later, when they were talking, and Yao had said:

"So why don't you just apologize? You say it eats you up at night, you feel guilty, you didn't want to hurt me, so why haven't you even once said you're sorry?!" and Kiku rebutted with:

"Because I am not. I know I hurt you, and I did not intend to, and I hate to see you hurt Yao-san, but I did nothing wrong. I had my people, my patients on earth to think about and look after. It's unfortunate that that means you got left behind, but you really brought it all upon yourself."

"Arthur manipulating me was me bringing it upon myself?!" Arthur was Kiku's friend, and so was Yao, and at that point he didn't know who's story he believed, so he stayed quiet. "Kiku, you could have helped your people _and_ helped me." No. That was false. Yao didn't know what he was talking about, and then the hat returned.

"Get out," Yao demanded, curtly and simply, all previous emotion lost to him. Kiku, completely unaffected by the coldness, snickered and then left. That couldn't have been how that ended; he thought there was more drama. Some tears and screams and anger and sadness. That was just dismissive nothingness, so it couldn't have been that, but that's all his mind's eye saw, and it seemed so real. It must have happened!

But maybe not to him.

He wouldn't act like that…would he?

Would he?

Bidding these distorted memories goodbye, the man slipped out of his bed (cautiously, for a fear he refused to admit that something would jump out from underneath it and drag him downwards) and prepared to dress. If solidarity was not going to be kind to him today, then he wouldn't stay alone.

* * *

They said black looked good on everyone, but he just refused to think it was a suiting color for _him_. It was heavy, deep, dark, and too direct a contrast with his soul and how he tried to feel. The color attracted attention away from his slightly dimpled cheeks and glowing, adorable eyes, and instead drew it all to the abomination stretched out behind him.

His wings. Dark as the sky at midnight without a single star in sight. Truly and utterly repulsive, but stapled to his back, just inside the shoulder blades, at all times for him to constantly have to see. Blacked feathers fluttered all about his house despite his efforts to keep it vacuumed well, and while he kept his wings retracted in his back throughout the day, every single morning when he would wake, he'd have to see them stretched to their fullest in the mirror. A disgusting sight, but they were much too stiff after a night's rest to retract just yet, so they would just be there.

Stuck to him.

Existing.

Ruining everything.

Each day he put on a brave face, bathed or showered, brushed his teeth and hair, and stared at them until he could bend and fold and tuck them away and out of sight just as he pled. He dressed, opened the blinds to welcome some light, and took to his kitchen. Breakfast was cooked, and served with a side of pills-from-Arthur, and all was right with the world.

Well…almost all. But it was close enough.

And today, after this routine, the doorbell rang, and the man - who did not look good in black and had today ditched his usual strip of color to wear all white in petty defiance - answered it. His friend stood on the other side with a look on his face that could never pass as a smile, but was intended to be such.

"Good morning," Kiku said in the doorway, before bowing, "it's good to see you. May I come in?" Kiku had also, coincidentally enough, chosen to wear all white. He did often as of late though, and it looked good on him. His friend, who refused to admit he looked a little washed out in _all_ white, smiled, light and cute dimples pressing into his cheeks, before stepping aside and welcoming the other into his home. He hoped he wouldn't find any feathers.

* * *

"KIKU!" Mei screamed. He'd jumped, only a little, at the sudden presence yanking him back into reality. Mei's face settled from the scream into her usual, bright grin with cheeky dimples, and she served for a moment as "safety" from the mind.

"Hai, Mei-chan. I apologize."

"Such a space cadet, Kiku. Pay attention." She was the sixth person he had met with that day to try to find freedom from his dystopian mind. The man had felt a little awkward today, as he was wearing all white, but of all the angels he'd visited and waved to on the walk, he was glad to find he was not the only one. Mei was the third person he'd seen all day (one of them was a random stranger, but it still counted) who Kiku had seen without a fleck of color. She found it trendy, and Kiku was happy to be around her.

"Kiku, I asked you how you were feeling after yesterday." Yesterday, yes. The dinner party. He split his hand and skin on his head and turned the dinner into a disaster. Despite this all, Mei smiled sweetly and awaited his response with a hint of concern on her brow.

"I'm quite alright, and I'm sorry that I-"

"No, no, no. Don't worry about it. We just wanted to make sure you were okay. Yao said he didn't see you. You did go to a doctor, right?"

"Uhm," he was above lying right now. A memory flashed into his head, or perhaps a vision because he was more than a hundred thousand percent certain it had never happened. Even if it did look like him, and it did look like her, had never, ever, not even once even thought about kissing Mei. She was so much younger than him, and much too cute a girl to sit on his lap like that, smile devilishly, cup his face, and kiss him. Deep. Hard. For a long time. With tongue. No. Not this girl. And he was not the type to sit still and do nothing about it while…certain parts of him… grew in interest. Suddenly he wasn't quite as happy to be with her anymore.

"I assure you I'm fine, Mei-chan. Thank you for your concern." She smiled harder, even giggling, and he recalled the sound of his hand meeting her cheek in a very vicious slap.

"Mei-chan, can I ask you a…rather odd question?"

"Err, well, okay. What's up Kiku?"

"Have I… Have we ever kissed?" She grinned widely now while biting her bottom lip, a gentle pink dusting her cheeks, and a tuft of her hair swirled about her index finger.

"Um, no." She turned her head to try, and fail, to hide her smile.

"Have I ever hit you?" The smile fell immediately.

"What? No!"

"Have we ever-" he decided against this question. If they'd never kissed they'd surely never…

Oh. Where was his mind taking him? Half his thoughts involving Mei seemed right with bright, happy little encounters, and giggles, and the girl's way of leaning on his arm, or brushing her hand against his, or fighting a bright red shade from taking over her face when she wanted to tell him something or deliver a gift. It was just the cute little girl he'd always known.

But the other half involved his very hands hitting, pushing, and smacking that cute little girl, and every time she would get up. The woman would crawl up from the ground, and attack right back with her lips, and her curves, and the warmth of her skin, and the places he shouldn't touch. She'd force herself onto him, and before long he would push back. They made their way to a bed or a couch or a table and those sweet lips and rough bites down his neck evolved into something Kiku himself hadn't done since the last generation of angels ascended to heaven without him. He was too old, and Mei was too young. So why was half of him imagining-remembering-envisioning this?

"Ever what, Kiku?"

"Nevermind, Mei-chan. Thank you. I think I have to go now, but, it was good seeing you."

"Oh, you too! And you ought to find Yao and Lien and the others. They're all still worried about you."

"Yes, thank you." He walked off and dismissed the distant feeling of legs wrapping around his waist and the faint sound of moans in his head. Something was very, very, horribly wrong. He needed to see Arthur again.

* * *

"Do you think I would look sexier with dimples?"

"Like mine?" Francis, who had posed the original question, immediately dropped everything he was doing to turn and gape at Arthur. He had dimples, and one could only know this because he was smiling.

Arthur Middle-Initial Kirkland was SMILING, and in Francis' presence no less. It was a moment for the history books! He was smiling, a real, genuine one, with teeth even – and did he just giggle?! Francis wasn't really paying much attention to himself, and failed to notice the fact that he was climbing onto Smiling Arthur's desk just to get a closer look at him and make sure he was, in fact, smiling. Smiling a smile. Like, a for real smile that stretched from cheek to cheek, each one becoming a cute, squish-able, little peak on his face with dips near the top. Dimples indeed to compliment an English Smile.

"You're staring," Arthur, who was now still smiling, but also blushing pointed out. He raised a hand, and rather than punching with it as the other blond initially expected, he pressed a finger on Francis' forehead and gently pushed him away with a chuckle.

Chuckle, smile, giggle, blush, and dimples all in one day. This was certainly something.

"Ah, pardon, Anglais. I'm just a little shaken to see you so happy for once."

"To what are you referring?" Arthur asked, playfully curious, smile still growing.

"You are usually much less…patient with me. I appreciate the change of heart, Anglais." Actually, he did not at all appreciate the change of heart. It was odd, and not at all the Arthur he'd grown fond of (did he just think that? He'd meant "used to"). Therefore, to show his "admiration", Francis grabbed gracefully and kissed the back of the Englishman's hand working quickly up and up the arm to the cheek. By the time he'd kissed there, Arthur caught on and pulled away; Francis braced himself for a slap. This face was really too beautiful to be hit, but at least it'd put them back on track.

And so he was braced.

For a slap.

A Slap.

I said Slap.

Slap?

Francis opened eyes he hadn't realized were closed to find Arthur looking back at him expectantly. His head was cocked slightly to the left, his eyes squinted with one brow raised, and his lips slightly parted and sort of grinning. His expression was tender, approving, and extremely flirtatious.

It was perhaps the most disturbing thing Francis had ever seen.

"Ooohhh, is that it?" Arthur more said than asked as his hungry eyes looked the French body up and down, "so we're like that?" Arthur stood and Francis didn't move. He couldn't. Every bone in his body was rooted firmly into place and it didn't help that his brain had completely forgotten how to function as well. He didn't move as Arthur got onto and then sat atop his desk, or as he scooted close, very close, to his companion, or as he threw his arms around the taller of the two's neck.

Now, don't get him wrong, this was normally nothing Francis wasn't used to. He was married in his human life, so, technically speaking, any…unspeakable acts he did now were done after marriage, and, therefore, sinless (or at least this is what he told himself). This was not his first time being flirted with and it would surely not be the last:

It's just that it was the first time from Arthur. That made the affair dangerous.

This was a trap; he knew it was a trap. Maybe Arthur had deadly hot sauce under his tongue or maybe they were being surveilled or maybe he would find his lip bitten or his face laughed in, but the point was that this was a trap. There was a squeaking noise and Francis managed to move then, just enough to look left.

Oh yes, right on time! Here comes the part where he gets trapped! The door to the hall they were once privately in was opening and something horrible would befall the Frenchman now. He just knew it.

"Am I interrupting something, Arthur-san?"

The 'something horrible' had taken form in a tiny, old man… apparently.

"Oh, no," the hands around the neck were removed, "I suppose not, Honda. Come right in. Do you need something with me?"

"Uhm, yes. It's pertaining to…my treatment." Kiku looked at Francis, and then so did Arthur. He glanced back and forth between them until something seemed to click.

"Ah, right, that! Francis, you must go. This is classified information I have with…" he gestured to Kiku and let the phrase trail.

"…Kiku?"

"YES! Kiku! Yes. So, go on now. Ta-tah." He dismissed Francis, who was still waiting to be trapped, with two pats on the bum before turning his attention to Kiku.

"Good to see you again today, and sorry to bother you at work, but, well, you see, Arthur-san, I as of late have been seeing…having visions. Lots of things I used to remember are now distorted, or rather, I think they are, and it doesn't seem right."

"What kinds of things do you see?" Kirkland took his seat back properly at his desk and leaned forward in subtle interest.

"Well, for one, I always recall Yao-san wearing a hat."

"Yao, that would be…" Kirkland glanced to the ceiling to think. What angels wore hats anymore? "Young Kirkland? Odd name for the boy…"

"You mean Peter-san? I…no, Arthur-san. Yao-san is to be Wang Yao of the-"

"OH! Yes! Your brother!"

"…well, no, not exactly."

"No?"

"Arthur-san, are you alright?"

This was a good question, and it seemed to have stumped the Englishman. He leaned away in his chair and tossed a hand over to scratch the back of his head. Kiku watched the man fidget in his chair and search the table for an answer. "I, yes, rather I," Arthur paused to clear his throat and straighten his sweater out. The sweater he'd changed into since Kiku had last seen him was green, his usual choice of color, but it was such a light shade of green it almost didn't suit him. "I mean you must…remember him as your brother all of the sudden, right?"

"Well yes, I do. How did you know?" Arthur, again stumped, snapped up finding himself very alert. His emerald eyes glazed back and forth between two almond shaped ones that seemed to be peering right through him. The man cleared his throat again.

"Intuition," Arthur added, fidgeting a fair bit after he'd spoken of it. "Anyways, K…K…Kika, that will all, WAIT NO! Kiku! Kiku, that will all happen as a result of…life. Just don't even worry about it."

Kiku, a very old, and therefore very wise man cocked his head to the side. It didn't take any wisdom at all actually to see that Arthur was a bit of a mess that day, including but not limited to, his choice in sweater. He'd skimped on wearing much white at all, as instead going with that aforementioned sweater, khakis, grey vans, and only the color of a white button up showed out the top. His hair was very neat, but so neat It made him look odd without its usual disarray. "A result of life?"

"Yes. Just let it happen and don't worry about telling me about this again. It's…uhm…a…"

"Side effect?"

"YES! Of…life and…of…"

"I understand. You mean the pills, right, Arthur-san?"

"…Sure?"

"Why not just say that then?"

"You're a bright boy. I quite figured you right well knew it."

If Kiku had known that, he wouldn't be here asking, but luckily a certain pill he no longer allowed himself to forget taking kept him from saying that. "Arthur-san, you seem a little distracted today. Is something the matter?"

"Oh, heavens no!" Arthur slapped his knee grinning wildly, "I'm good, my lad!"

"But, Arthur-san you seem to have even forgotten my name earlier. Are you sure-"

"No, no, no, I didn't forget. I just…right…well everyone draws a blank sometimes! I could only think Honda, I didn't recall the first bit, Chap," Arthur reached then across his desk and placed his hand above Kiku's. "Forgive me?"

Kiku looked at his hand, covered.

He looked into Arthur's blue-green eyes, glistening, just above a smile and two slushed in dimples.

He glanced back at his hand which he now felt was being groped by a damp finger-mop.

He shuttered.

"Maybe I should take my leave, Arthur-san."

"Oh alright, I guess I don't- "Arthur effectively knocked over his drink in the middle of this sentence spilling a red liquid all over his desk and scrawled on papers. He sighed, mumbled under his breath a simple, "oh bother", and Kiku snuck out the way he'd entered while the man kept to cleaning. He sought off to find more company, more safety, and more normality for this oddly backwards day.

* * *

I'm declaring this chapter over because I have realized I write very strangely. As I write I am trying to learn more about how to get better and what I'm doing, because ideally in my career I'd like to write and draw for movies, games, or TV shows as a storyboard artist and character designer. So, what I don't understand, is why I write like this with this story. If you read my other current story, These Wounds Won't Seem to Heal, I describe things and what's going on and it makes sense.

But here I like…write like what I'm writing is Kiku's thoughts, but also like it's not. It so strange! I don't really do grammatically correct sentences and while it works and makes sense to me, I'm me. I'd like to know how you readers feel. **Do you like this style of writing or should I try to change it? _PLEASE leave a review in which you answer this question for me_** because right now I have no idea how I feel about my writing. I want to put out material you guys want to read, and this story is more experimental, so let me know so I can change it as I go. My focuses for this are supposed to be mystery, foreshadowing, and as of lately I'm trying to toss in angst. Am I doing that well at all?

Aside from that note, here we get a secret angel other than Kiku who is going devil, and some mixed up memories. I figure because of different personalities **, events would go differently from 1p and 2p, so, here we explore some of the possible differences** I like. 2p Japan and 2p Taiwan having an abusive, yet sexual relationship, whereas there 1p's are respectful to each other and very close in a good, mushy way. 2p Japan and 2p China thinking of each other as brothers and having their good moments, but Japan really running the show during WW2, whereas the 1ps have an oddly strained and complicated relationship, but still love each other in a mostly healthy way. Yao a little more than Kiku (poor baby). **Any other differences in relationship you guys would like to suggest** (believe me, I have my ideas, but I'm open to your interpretations).

Here's a completely pointless headcannon I wanna throw in for my own enjoyment that I kind of hinted at here. Japan's history of falling in love: 1. A human who was named after a landmark. This person was hired by his boss, much to his displeasure, to be his helper, but when he heard her name, Japan thought she was a nation personification. He let himself fall in love with her and even asked her to marry him before he pieced together that she was only human.

2\. Gaul. Yea, France's mom. According to my calculations, Japan is only about 100 years younger than Rome, making him in the age range of them all. He was an adult when they were around and Hima-sama always says how while Japan isn't cool with relationships now, but he used to be much more open. So I imagine that in that generation China was hanging with the guys (Rome, Germania, Scandinavia at times, and Britannia because she is a manly girl like Hungary) whereas, at times, the girls would want to get away and find Japan. These girls include Ancient Egypt, Britannia at times, Nativia (OC Native North America) and Gaul. Gaul is really bubbly and happy like a lot of Japan's present day friends, so I see him liking her, but also flirtatious like France, so I imagine eventually her advances and persistence got to him. I could write a whole story about this - I love this relationship.

2.5. Sometimes I like to say he had a thing with Ancient Egypt. They're just both so quite and sweet; maybe they'd like being alone together.

3 to 6 in any order you see fit: America, Greece, England, and for a short while till he saw he had no chance, Germany. I call this his gay phase.

Okay, I'm done babbling. But **I really need you guys' help so PLEASE REVIEW.**


	7. Chapter 7

Now, I swear somewhere on this planet I have a list of what exactly is supposed to happen next. I just don't know where it is. So, welcome to me WINGing it (I'm sorry. I'm not a pun person but that was too easy).

I kind of want to speed up the pace for this story, so this chapter has a big reveal. There's more y'all don't know, understand, or maybe just haven't figured out, but this'll be a biggie. ;) Here's some names just in case...

 **Name - 1p - 2p**  
Japan - Kiku - Kuro  
England - Arthur - Oliver  
Italy - Feliciano (Feli) - Luciano (Luci)  
Taiwan - Mei - Ming  
Germany - Ludwig - Lutz

* * *

Kiku found himself again in that room – the library with shelves that towered like dilapidated buildings and the cast shadows of monsters stomping the grounds.

"Ah…I see it didn't work again," said Arthur. He was leaning very closely to Kiku's face and relaying his disappointment.

"What…didn't?" Kiku questioned, leaning away from Arthur's noise. He had flecks of dirt or dust on it.

"Don't worry, it will come to you. You tend to be a little disoriented after these things, Love." Arthur patted Kiku on his head, giggled, and walked off to the falling apart desk in that haunted library.

"Arthur-san, why are we here? How did we-"

"Oh, I'm not Arthur, dear. It's Oliver! You've made it back home!"

Kiku offered "Oliver" a very blank stare, that Arth- or, "Oliver" laughed at before assuring Kiku again that "it" would come to him. Kiku studied the room.

It was still creepy. Still sent a shock of quiet fear to his stomach. Still sent chills up and down his spine from lower back to base of the neck. He wouldn't call it home.

Kiku also couldn't help but notice it was unusually hot in this room. He wasn't sweating yet but he very well could have been as the heavy, humid, heated air was difficult to breathe.

He stood. The chair he was sat in had a drape over it of – oh wait – no, he was wearing that. It was a cape colored a deep violet with hints of gold in designs and tassels draped over his shoulders. It matched perfectly with the rest of his attire, a variation of a military suit of his people. He knew he had one of these, but didn't pull it out very often any more.

And he could've sworn his was white and not black.

"Oliver" caught his eye in his confusion and laughed again. Kiku was told he would remember why he'd put this on sooner or later. The man was sure it'd be later because he didn't recall owning, or ever buying this outfit.

Kiku took a moment to notice "Oliver" now. Perhaps the change of attire and demeanor was a reason for Arthur's change of name. For one, the man kept laughing. Not a laugh of finding something amusing, but a cutesy and unnecessary one Kiku'd never heard him omit before. He wore light colors again, just like the day prior, this time a pastel purple that didn't suit him. And Arthur scratching his face told Kiku what he thought was dirt, where actually freckles stretching from cheek to cheek that Arthur had…drawn on?

Did all these differences make Arthur into Oliver? Was Kiku participating in this backwardness and therefore, dressed himself entirely in black? Had he renamed himself?

"Arth- uh, Oliver-san, maybe you could refresh me of what I'm supposed to be remembering. It would likely help."

"What are you confused about?"

"Lots of things. Where are we? Why did you give yourself freckles? And I hope this is the lighting but…is your hair pink? Arthur-san, why should I call you Oliver now? I still don't know why I'm wearing or where I got this. Why are we here at all? I…I essentially need everything explained."

With each question Arthur grew more and more worried, not bothering to hide the expression on his face at all. When the monologue ended, he ran to Kiku's side and pressed a hand to his head.

"You're burning up!"

"It's very hot in this room."

"Not any hotter than normal, honey," Arthur turned his back on Kiku to go grab a cloth to cool him down. It was a good thing he did, because what he said next mortified the short, raven-haired man past the boundaries of his maintained facial expression. "We _are_ in the Lower Level."

It took just a second for all the horrid imagery of rising flames that devoured the walls and threatened him, the endless staircase to a dark depth, and the screams of agony to flood back to his brain. He spent another second thinking.

What was light upstairs was dark in the Lower Level. What made sense in the Angel's Realm was a mystery down here. Arthur would _never_ bring him down those steps; no sensible angel would. He looked just like him, but this Oliver had odd hair, and freckles, and laughed too much, and wore lilac. He couldn't be Arthur-in-his-right-mind if he brought him down here. _Couldn't be._

So what was wrong with him?

With his two seconds of throwing his mind back in order over, he found a way to ignore the pit of mortification in his stomach, and forced his eyebrows to settle. He forced the wrinkles from his forehead and his lips to still and his eyes to un-widen. Kiku looked entirely neutral by the time Oliver turned back to him.

"There you go, that should help cool you down a tiny bit. Well, Love, I had tried the spell again to send you up to the angelic realm, remember?"

 _A spell to get back home; so then that must've meant we got trapped in the lower level somehow._ He nodded, slowly and unsurely, but hoping it would lead Oliver to further explanation.

"Your mind always transfers first, so you blacked out on me, but your body, yet again, couldn't make the swap."

His mind transferred first? For what? Where did it go? Kiku imagined then that his mind was a small cloud of whiteness that a magic spell could just make appear in his house, or perhaps on the street scaring people. It didn't seem logical.

"…right…well, Arth- Oliver-san, what about my attire?"

"Oh, the clothes, Love?" Oliver again produced a giggle that made something deep inside Kiku horribly uncomfortable, "you wore those because you thought it'd better connect you to Kiku. Remember?"

"How would clothes that aren't mine better connect me to-"

Kiku was going to say 'myself' to finish that question, but in the middle of speaking he realized something. " _Oliver seems to think I am not me,"_ Kiku thought, _"so how would the tables turn if I reveal myself? Would this angel-"_

 _"Is Oliver even an angel? I think I still look like me; I recognize my skin, and hands, and can see my bangs falling in my face. Yet, Oliver thinks I'm someone else. So, is Oliver, despite his looks, really **not** just a confused Arthur? What if this gets dangerous for me?"_

Kiku knew angels and demons were brought up differently. Both parties learned to fight, and use weapons, and defend themselves, but for angels it was to protect. When on earth there was a chance they could run into demons, sirens, or some other such mythical that had to be either avoided or fought off.

But, rumor had it that for demons, the fighting was to be used for any purpose: fun, torture, anything they wanted. If Oliver decided to turn against him now, in his own realm, who knew what he'd be capable of while Kiku could only manage feeble protection?

"How," he tried to think of a question whoever-he-was would ask, "how did…Kiku…react?"

"Oh, I don't know. Just the usual I suppose. A couple slips here and there into your mannerisms. Nothing new."

He hoped his eyes hadn't widened any as he had his epiphany. Suddenly the room felt hotter, but his body froze. All functions died and he couldn't think the thoughts he needed to move but quick flicks of the eyes. The grotesque, peeling paint of the walls, stains of blood no doubt in the corner, and darkness. Everything was cast either in a faint, red glow or a blanket of black.

Finally, he began to sweat. The changes in Kiku's – in his- mannerisms were explained by Arthur as demonic. If there was someone causing it then, they had to be a demon. The body he was somehow cast in therefore had to be that of a demon, and the Arthur-look-alike who was less than two feet away from him was…

 _Demonic._ As he'd thought that word a pit fell in his stomach. The door squeaked and he physically jumped. Oliver giggled at this, but it wasn't cutesy. It was loud, and made the hairs on his arms stand up on end. It echoed through the room and matched its beholder's creepy smile.

Kiku was confused, and trapped in the lower level with a demon who was grinning at him.

* * *

The first thing Kuro noticed was that it was cold in the angelic realm. After a quick shiver, he realized what had happened. A demon was now walking amongst the angels and he would have done a small dance for joy had there not been an audience.

Lutz and Luciano sat at- wait, no, he had to remember these were the angelic versions now. Ludwig and…whatever the other one's name was, were sitting across from him at a table. It was odd that they were still sitting. He figured his black attire, deathly pale skin, or red, snake-like eyes would have run them off by now. Angels were usually fairly weak and trite.

"He what, Kiku?" Not-Luciano asked. He opened his eyes, which had been closed for…. whatever reason, and looked like a lost puppy.

Kuro wished he could take a photo of this to mock Luci with later. "What?" he asked, trying to hide his honest amusement at not-Luciano's naivete.

"You stopped talking mid-sentence," Ludwig explained.

Kuro looked back and forth between the two for a solid five seconds before it hit him. There was no pain for Kiku, not fluctuation of consciousness or temperature like there usually was, and no feeling of floating away into fullness. Nothing was usual about this trip to the upper level compared to his previous attempts; it just happened. He normally could only slip into Kiku for seconds, but today he just suddenly and without warning had full control.

"What color are my eyes?" the man asked.

"Uhm…still black, Kiku? Why?"

And so that was it. 'Kuro' hadn't made it to the angelic realm, he was still in stage 4 of the process – controlling Kiku's body. He'd never had full control like this. Normally Kiku remained mostly in power and even tried to fight off Kuro's will in speaking. Usually one of those dreaded pills the angel would take would reverse the spell and knock Kuro back down to Hell.

But this time, he'd been given a golden opportunity. He'd seen Kiku's world; he understood it! He could pretend to be him while Oliver took notes on what was going on. Next time for sure **_all_** of him would make it up here!

"Oh right, right, I'm very sorry," he stated, very pleased with himself for apologizing just the way he'd heard his obnoxious counterpart do far too many times, "I do not remember what I was talking about. My train of thought has left me entirely." He sounded so haughty and proper as Kiku! It was oddly entertaining to fool these two.

"You were talking about-" Ludwig began, he was cut off by the Italian.

"Can you get me some ice cream?" he asked. It was truly, _truly_ shocking to hear such a _high-pitched_ voice emit from a body so much resembling Luciano's, but Kuro tried not to looked shocked. No need upsetting him. He stood to retrieve the requested desert.

Once Kuro reached the ice cream stand, he realized something troubling. He'd forgotten to ask what flavor the boss wanted. If he came back with the wrong thing, Luciano would have an absolute fit, and without a weapon of some kind, how could he fight back against-

Wait. This wasn't Luciano. It was the silly angel with the puppy-eyes! He'd get vanilla and he'd be happy with it. Kuro returned to the table, resolved with his decision, and faking confidence. He was determined to ignore the hole in his stomach and irresistible urge to seek cover as he handed fake-Luci the ice cream cone.

Luci frowned.

There was nothing scary about this frown. It wasn't Luciano's look of utter disappointment and annoyance, and it did not mean a barrage of throwing knives would be attacking him soon. However, it was natural to act on reflexes. Normally, at the sight of this frown, Lutz and Kuro both jumped to either find shelter or a weapon and fight Luci down. He had to be pinned, and sometimes sedated, before he would mellow out and be able to reconnect with his friends.

So, it was only natural that upon seeing this frown Kuro jumped back three feet and took a fight stance. The Italian was paying him no mind.

"I wanted strawberry, Ludwig," he actually whined, latching onto the man's bicep. Ludwig grew a little angry.

"I don't know why Kiku got you anything at all anyways. Eat it and be happy."

It was in this moment that Kuro left his fight stance and actually began to pat himself down in desperate search of a camera. He _needed_ to get this because Luciano's body

Was crying.

Sobbing.

Actual tears sprang from his eyes and it was _hysterical_. Ludwig went into repair mode, trying to find the words to say or touch to give that would calm the poor man down, but it was much too late for Luciano. Kuro found a camera in his left pocket and was snapping away.

Kuro laughed.

If he figured out a way to get these back home, Luciano's reputation was as good as dead, and he might as well have been too. No one would buy that this wasn't him and the man looked so deliciously _pitiful_ just blubbering like that.

It wasn't until he'd been laughing for a couple seconds that he noticed the antics had stopped and both parties were staring at him in shock and maybe a bit of horror. A tear slipped from Not-Luciano's golden eye simply from gravity, but his actual crying had ceased. Ludwig had his mouth slightly agape. It was as if they had never heard their friend laugh before!

"What?" he asked, suddenly self-conscious. Had he somehow blown his cover?

"Nothing. I just didn't know your laugh was so-" and yet again he was cut off by the Italian who exclaimed:

"SCARY! It was deep and dark and you sound mean! Is that why you never laugh like everyone else? I thought it was because you were sad. That's why I always tried to hug you and make you happy! But I'll stop, okay, promise! That was creepy, I didn't like it! Don't laugh anymore! Ludwig help me!"

The man spoke a mile a minute in his pitchy, whinny voice, so Kuro almost missed it all, but hearing it made him laugh again. Louder. They thought his laugh was frightening? Oh just wait till he got his whole body up here! Till his blade was slipping through the sun kissed skin on that throat, slitting it, and silencing that annoying ass voice forever.

"Kiku, please try to control yourself," Ludwig commented, "you know how Feliciano can be."

That was his name? Feli… Kuro had already forgotten the rest. He found it very difficult, despite his sternness, to take Ludwig seriously. Lutz down below had absolutely no backbone with anything unless he was doing something for Luci. Despite it all, he willed his demonic laughter to calm itself.

"Ah, I'm sorry, his reaction was just," he fought off another round of giggles, "unexpected."

He desperately wanted to laugh more, to slit his eyes or raise his horns and horrify poor Felikabano. He had such large, glistening, pathetic tears and the Japanese demon couldn't help but derive great pleasure from causing them to fall. It he could separate Ludwig and Felisutsano, the bubbly brunet would make for a fun little game, he was sure.

* * *

In the Lower Level, it stayed dark until about 1pm. Since it was noon, this left Kiku walking around in Kuro's body in the pitch black darkness of night. There were a few natural stars, but no moon, and there were only small lights on some of the buildings he passed.

For the most part, when people would come into view, the first thing he'd see were there eyes. A glittering green or reflective red in the darkness with no body till the beholder fell into the light. He lied and told himself the sight of it wasn't chilling. He'd collected that his own eyes were red, so anyone who saw him approaching had a fearsome sight to get past too.

So, he walked on in the dark, avoiding the side of the street most people were walking on, until in the distance he spotted a glow of hot pink. The eyes were big, round, and shinned brightly in the black of night. They approached him slowly, but intently, staring right back into his own red orbs.

Kiku stopped in the streetlight, heart pounding and palms sweating, to see who Mr. Pink Eyes was.

It wasn't a Mr. at all, but a girl. Or rather, by the looks of her, a woman. Mei. She had a face ever so slightly older than the fifteen-year-old Mei Kiku knew upstairs, and strived to look mature. Her hair was cut perfectly straight, falling just below her shoulders and curving up at the ends. A touch of makeup winged her eyes out and deepened the shade of her lips.

As Kiku took note of her outfit involving a rather short, red dress, and rather high heels, a devilish smile spread across the Taiwanese woman's face. She stepped closer, their eyes never breaking from one another and threw her arms around Kiku's shoulders.

Suddenly Kiku panicked. Everything he knew about this version of Mei involved intimate encounters he was not ready for. Hands, and touching, and feeling, and moaning; it must be what she was expecting of him right then and there on a street corner under someone's house's dim light.

However, he could also recall slapping, and pushing, and yelling between the two. If he was right, and his misconstrued memories were actually memories of Kuro's pushing their ways into his head, him telling her no wouldn't be too out of the ordinary for Kuro.

Kiku grabbed her arms, gently, and removed them from his form. He wanted to tell her "not tonight" or something of the sort, but he couldn't make his mouth move, so he simply started to walk around her.

"Kuuurooooo…" she purred, latching onto his arm, "where do you think you're going?"

He dusted her hands off him, and it made her giggle.

"Kuro, really now," she murmured, wrapping her arms around him from behind. She whispered into his ear her plans for the two of them, which Kiku went wide-eyed at.

He jumped when there was a small hand squeezing his backside.

Demon-Mei ran around to his front to face him, and giggled again. She was both cute, like Mei from above, and teasingly alluring.

"Are you blushing at me?" she asked, mockingly, "Oh come on, Honda," she slipped her hands under his shirt, "let's head back to your place. It's not too far."

He glanced at the streetlight, certain his face had gone ruddy with embarrassment. Why did it have to be like this? Why did it have to be Mei? This couldn't have been the demon-embodiment of someone older, or someone he never really spoke to anyways? It just had to be her?!

She wasn't taking him seriously, so he needed to be more forceful. He couldn't let every skin to skin contact shock him, and couldn't be so mindful of her. Kiku slapped her arms as hard as he could force himself to (which wasn't all that hard, though there was a bit of redness), and stepped back from her. He tried to make his face stern.

"Kuro?" Mei's face looked up at him a little worried now, her big and round eyes shining with concern. She placed her palms on his chest and stared at him till he met her gaze. A pitiful pink into a cracking red.

Kiku went first to simply move her hands, but decided mid motion that that wasn't going to be enough, and physically pushed her away. Demon-Mei stumbled backwards and glanced back at him, in shock.

"Kuro, what's wrong?" she asked. She stepped forward, but didn't touch him this time. "Don't you want to be with me?"

She looked so concerned for their relationship…if one could call it that. So horror-stricken. So devastated! Kiku had to mentally battle all the pity he had for her and keep his resolve. He'd made a decision, and he was in Kuro's body. It was okay if he was mean to her. Even if those pink eyes glazed over with tears he had no choice.

Kiku began to walk around her again, ignoring her existence.

"You're not even gonna talk to me?" she pled, walking behind him, "Kuro, what did I do? Hey!" She forcibly spun him around but removed her hands from his frame afterwards. Fear struck itself into her expression the moment she realized she forced herself on him like that. The woman took a step back, like a timid and afraid rabbit, but her expression begged for attention.

Kiku almost let his brows wrinkle together in worry. He almost reached out to her to calm her. Mei was such a happy girl; it was rare than anything got her down like this, better yet Kiku himself. But, he had to remind himself, this wasn't Mei and he wasn't Kiku.

"Stop." He stated it simply and plainly, and demon Mei opened her mouth to rebut. He didn't want to hear it. Kiku felt that Kuro would have, by now, lost all patience. He dug deep into himself for all the thoughts about this girl he'd repressed. He deemed that one too mean and that one outright disrespectful, but now he was not Kiku. He was Kuro. And Kuro would speak his mind.

"You look like a sad prostitute in that scrap of fabric you're trying to pass as a dress," he shouted, not allowing his voice to waiver despite his sinking stomach, "your heels are high enough to send you into space, and stop it with this pathetic behavior latching onto me like some homeless kitten! I told you no, and I mean no, so get out of my sight, little girl!"

The words died in her throat. Not-Mei tugged down the bottom of her dress in an attempt to cover more of herself, and lowered her head in humiliation. She took a step back, then stumbled.

"Kuro," she tried in a weak voice, "I'm not a… little girl. If this is your idea of a game I don't find it fun."

It was physically painful to look at her like that. She was so pitiful. Maybe he could just start again from the beginning and find a nice, gentle way to explain that this wasn't what he wanted. But then again, maybe demon Mei didn't respond to that. Maybe this was why Kuro was so rough with her on days he didn't want her in the first place.

"No one's playing, child," Kiku replied, fighting the urge to bite his tongue for talking to anyone like this, "not tonight. I'm not in the mood to… involve myself with someone so much my junior."

Kiku turned away then and wanted to strip his skin. He wanted to spit his sins out onto the pavement and apologize with all of his being. He'd not only hurt her feelings, but he seemed to strike a nerve with the girl. He rested his face in one of his hands and fought off the agony. There was a heavy tread in his feet as every single inch of his being begged to go back and correct himself.

Kiku sighed as another set of eyes approached him. Hopefully it was no one he knew.

He couldn't stand this attitude was forced to have as long as he was in this body.

* * *

Okay! Hope y'all enjoyed. In the next chapter things will only get worse! It's basically a downhill slope from here for everyone. Haha!


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